


Your wings

by WindsOfTime



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Badass Cloud, Boss/Employee Relationship, Celebrities, M/M, Mutants, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6518857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindsOfTime/pseuds/WindsOfTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Actor, business man, even singer and fashion model when it struck his fancy, Sephiroth had a schedule worse than the President's, enough whims to put a pregnant woman to shame and a demanding and largely overbearing personality. For his personal assistant Cloud Strife, he was a nightmare. Then there was that creep Hojo on TV, blabbering wild stories about mutants...<br/>(Reposted from Fanfiction.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into Thai available [here](https://my.dek-d.com/f/writer/view.php?id=1656993).
> 
> I chose not to use archive warnings for this one because while I don't think it involves anything too iffy, there *is* some violence and blood in chapter 3. So please exercise caution if this kind of things upsets you.

So peaceful…

Cloud was warm and comfortable. There was a gentle white light all around him, teasing the inside of his eyelids. He sighed in pure contentment and felt someone’s arms tighten around his waist. Something very soft brushed against his skin. He opened his eyes and stared in wonder.

Feathers…

Somewhere far away, something was ringing.

With the habit born of years of training, Cloud found his hand snapping to his phone before he was even halfway awake. He rolled to his side and put it to his ear.

“Strife,” he answered tersely.

Thank God for small favours, his voice reflected nothing of his sleepiness. He had become good at this. He blinked bleary eyes open and squinted at the alarm clock.

The voice that came from his phone was masculine and pleasantly deep. It would have been a nice way to wake up if it hadn’t been more familiar than his own and a source of endless frustration.

“Strife. I need Tseng’s latest proposal.”

Five thirty-six. It was _five thirty-six in the morning_.

“Weren’t you taking a break from acting?” Cloud asked in what was clearly a lapse of judgment on his part.

“I was, now I am not. Get me that proposal and call my manager. I want him here at six.”

“… You fired him two days ago.”

“And you haven’t found a replacement yet… why?”

“I—”

 _‘_ — _worked until an hour ago to compile a list of suitable managers and I can hardly do anything more until you look at your mailbox, see my email, bitch at how incompetent they clearly all are and finally use your stamp of approval on the one that annoys you the less, asshole,’_ he wanted to say, but God forbid he had a say in this conversation.

“This just means you’ll have to do his job. Six o’clock, Cloud.”

“Yes, sir,” he automatically answered, but the line had already cut.

Cloud would have felt justified in slamming down the receiver if he hadn’t been using his cell phone. He would have thought Sephiroth called this number instead of his landline just for this purpose, but no; he merely loathed the idea of not being able to bring Cloud to heel no matter where he was.

Cloud dragged his exhausted body out of bed with the grim determination of a soldier marching to the front and jumped in his last set of clean, pressed clothes—he’d have to do the laundry soon, unless he wanted Sephiroth to use that cold, contemptuous stare every time he entered a room with a wrinkled shirt.

Sephiroth Crescent, the bane of his existence. Cloud could no longer remember what had happened in his head the day he had accepted the position of personal assistant to the man; or rather, he liked to pretend he didn’t remember anymore. It made him feel a bit less of a fool. Actor, business man, even singer and fashion model when it struck his fancy, Sephiroth had a schedule worse than the President’s, enough whims to put a pregnant woman to shame, and a demanding and largely overbearing personality. He was a nightmare.

Cloud made a short detour in the bathroom, then went to find his laptop still open on the kitchen table. He closed it, secured it in his briefcase and grabbed his keys. He was out of the door in less than five minutes. A feat that, as every morning, was nullified by having to wait nearly two minutes for the elevator; not that running down fourteen flights of stairs would have been any less time-consuming.

When it finally opened, Cloud found himself face-to-face with his neighbour and childhood friend, Tifa Lockhart. He blinked.

“Oh, Cloud!” she said, surprised and delighted. “Hello!”

Rather than get off, she backed away to let him come in. She obviously intended to ride down with him all the way back to the lobby. With a mental shrug, Cloud got in and pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Hey, Tifa. Long night at the bar?”

“Yeah. You know how it is, paperwork, bills to fill…”

She trailed off and squinted at his face.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Yes,” Cloud answered with a straight face.

Tifa rolled her eyes.

“How much? Three hours? Let’s get crazy: four?”

Less than that, but it wasn’t really her business.

“This job is killing you, Cloud,” she said for the umpteenth time. “Can’t you quit? That jerk doesn’t deserve you, and he sure as hell isn’t worth your health.”

“There aren’t that many employers on the market for personal assistants,” he answered like he did every time, although they both knew it was mostly a lie.

With his credentials and the kind of crazy skills he had had to acquire while working for Sephiroth, of course he’d be able to find another job. Maybe even one better paid, if that was possible.

The thing was, despite how much he bitched and groaned in his head, he didn’t want to. There was still something tethering him to Sephiroth. Tifa and his other friends seemed to think it was the remains of his teenage fascination for the man and that it would eventually go away, once he had suffered enough working for him. Cloud let them think so, but it wasn’t that simple.

Sephiroth was a nightmare of a boss, but there was something in the way he led his life that hopelessly dragged Cloud in. He never let anything stop him: not money, nor men, nor impossible hours or just plain impossibilities. He got things done when many still floundered their way around; and yes, most of the time it was Cloud that he “got to do things”, but it led to a fast-paced, exciting life that he was slowly learning he would hate to give up. Truthfully, the only thing Cloud was yearning for was some recognition of his hard work. But _that_ was probably a relic of the mindless fan he had once been and he generally did his best to ignore it.

Faced with his usual rebuttal, Tifa gave up.

“Alright, have it your way,” she sighed. “At least take an evening off one of these days. You could come to the bar and hang out with me. Or we could call Zack and Aerith and get dinner together.”

She smiled hopefully at him. Cloud tried not to fidget. Ever since that double date Aerith had dragged them on last month, Tifa’s expectations of him had seemed to rise to an unreasonable level. Tifa was his best friend. He had known her since they were kids and they were close, but he just didn’t know if he was ready to see her in that way. She didn’t seem to have the same kind of reservations.

“I’ll think about it,” he temporized.

Luckily, she knew when to not press him. She dropped the subject and settled for reminding him to eat healthily once in a while and to drop by her apartment if he ever needed something. He thanked her, got out of the elevator and bade her a good night before making a run for it.

Twelve minutes to six; he’d make it. There was a reason why he had never searched for an apartment that might better reflect his astronomical pay check than his tiny one bedroom flat, and it was best summarized in two words: convenient location. That, and the balcony was nice.

 

* * *

 

“I want this processed by this afternoon,” Sephiroth said. “And reschedule that meeting with the mayor. Or better yet, call it off; I am in no mood for that fool Heidegger.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sephiroth turned from him long enough to pluck a file from the far side of his slick modern desk and slid it on the metal and glass surface in front of Cloud. The paperwork for the new manager. Of course he _had_ consulted his mailbox, but Cloud knew better than to expect an apology.

“Have this back, too. This will be all, Strife.”

“Very well, sir.”

Cloud retrieved the file and got up. Sephiroth was already engrossed by his computer screen, his stunning green eyes scanning who knew what in his usual efficient way. At least Cloud never had to worry about his boss being lazy. He very deliberately didn’t let his eyes linger on the way the morning light spilled through the office’s huge floor to ceiling windows to give a special shine to Sephiroth’s long silver hair. Turning, he let himself out.

Only once the door had closed behind him did he let himself sigh and crick his neck, exhausted. A passing secretary gave him a sympathetic smile. Everyone in the SOLDIER Company knew that if Sephiroth had them all working hard, the boss’ personal assistant had it harder than anyone else. _They_ only had one job to worry about, after all. Cloud had to manage all of Sephiroth’s careers, and then some.

He retreated to the relative privacy of his office, right next door to his boss’. He set his files and laptop on the desk, let himself drop in his armchair and stretched his back. They had been working on Sephiroth’s participation to Tseng’s latest movie—which until last night Sephiroth had been dead set against—for close to five hours. All he could dream of was a good, long nap. Coffee would have to do, though.

Cloud hated coffee. It tasted foul.

But he started his coffee machine and, while it ran, he checked his cell phone. Since Sephiroth hated being interrupted and it had been in silent mode, he had one missed call. He frowned when he saw the caller ID.

What could Yuffie want? Usually, he was the one who called the reporter whenever a particularly annoying piece of gossip went out on Sephiroth and he needed info on the latest idiot he had to make understand spreading dirt on his boss was a bad, bad idea. His friends thought Cloud was a rather mild-mannered person, but gossips were one of the rare things that annoyed both him and Sephiroth, and since an annoyed Sephiroth doubly annoyed _him_ , he was _not_ a nice man when he had to manage those. Yuffie Kisaragi was a compassionate informer, especially since she sometimes got rewarded with exclusive info when Sephiroth was feeling generous with the press.

He pulled up the voice message she had left.

“Hey, Cloudy,” came her bubbly, perpetual teenager voice, although she sounded a bit nervous. “Well, you’re not here, hehe… No matter! I just wanted to let you know, uh… I’d have warned you, but I only heard about it this morning. Don’t blame me, okay? And if you don’t know what I am talking about yet… well, you’ll find out!”

After an obviously fake obnoxious laugh, she bade him a good day and hung up. Alarmed, Cloud nearly dived for his laptop and consulted the news feed he hadn’t yet had time to review for the day. He immediately found the problem.

He had barely skimmed through the already numerous articles on the subject, his horror growing, when his intercom chimed. He pressed the button, feeling sick to his stomach.

“Cloud, get in here.”

“Cloud”. Despite having pretty much renounced his family name and being renowned world-wide by his first name alone, Sephiroth was usually coldly polite with everyone; but whenever he was displeased with his personal assistant, suddenly he was “Cloud”. And since whenever he was displeased with anything at all, he found a way to be displeased with the way Cloud was handling it, Cloud positively hated hearing his first name in that man’s voice.

He barely resisted the urge to slam his head to the desk.

“So,” Sephiroth said as soon as Cloud entered his office, barely ten minutes after having left it. “It seems I am now the father of an adorable little boy named Brian.”

Cloud entirely blamed his lack of sleep and his growing depression for what he said next.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he noted, face completely blank.

The pen Sephiroth had been gracefully twirling on his fingers stilled. Sephiroth stared at him, his own expression just as unreadable as Cloud’s. Cloud felt the beginnings of panic rising and told himself to man up. Sephiroth wouldn’t fire him because of a wisecrack. He’d never find another assistant who’d be masochistic enough to not quit the job after two weeks.

Finally, Sephiroth answered:

“I don’t think I would feel quite as offended if the boy’s name was something more imaginative than _Brian_.”

… Had his boss just joked back? Maybe he wasn’t the only one functioning on too little sleep.

Before Cloud could do more than blink and marvel at this outstanding occurrence, Sephiroth had snapped back to his controlling demeanour.

“I don’t care how you do it. Make Scarlet eat her words. I want nothing to do with her squalling offspring.”

Maybe you should have begun by not bedding her, then, Cloud waspishly thought. Sephiroth had only dated fashion model Scarlet for a few weeks—if it could even have been called dating—but it had generated an endless sludge of wild rumours and general bad press for Cloud to clean up. This baby she insisted was Sephiroth’s was only the latest offense in her path of devastation. Cloud had a lot of grievances against Sephiroth, but Scarlet was one of his biggest ones. And it wasn’t his jealousy talking. He was way too frustrated with Sephiroth these days to have fantasies about him.

“The simplest way to deal with it would be to demand a DNA test,” he pointed out, trying to keep the weariness from his voice.

The intensity of Sephiroth’s reaction surprised him. Deadly focused green eyes swivelled to pin him on the spot. His voice was freezing and brooked no argument.

“Absolutely not.”

Cloud gaped. A DNA test would be quick and decisive evidence, exactly what he needed to lead a countercampaign against Scarlet. He didn’t always understand his boss’ decisions, but surely Sephiroth could see it would be the fastest way to get his name off the tabloids? Unless… unless he knew the test results wouldn’t work in his favour.

Cloud felt dread well up in his belly.

“Strife, under absolutely no circumstances should any sample of my DNA end up in any interested party’s hands. Is that clear?”

“… Yes, sir.”

He couldn’t believe it. Sephiroth actually knew, or at the very least strongly suspected, that the kid was his? And he was refusing to take responsibility? Bad press or not, this kind of behaviour…

“Then get to it.”

Cloud numbly nodded, turned and crossed the office. He put his hand on the door handle, but stopped there.

He couldn’t believe Sephiroth was this kind of man. He was arrogant, self-involved and contemptuous toward nearly everyone he ever met, but to coldly disregard a life he had given, however unwillingly; to spit on a child for fear of having him smear his reputation…

“What is it, Strife?”

Cloud turned back. One elbow propped on the desk before him, Sephiroth was looking at him with a surprising amount of patience, no trace of annoyance yet in his voice or eyes. Cloud made a quick decision; if he had overestimated this man’s ethics, he had to know, because he would want nothing to do with him anymore.

“Is the child yours?”

He was proud of how calm his voice sounded. The one thing he had learned the quickest and taken the most to heart in this job was to always seem professional and unaffected.

A small smile bloomed on Sephiroth’s lips and Cloud’s heart skipped a beat. That smile was a rare occurrence, and it never failed to affect him.

“Considering the dates involved, Cloud, I can assure you he is not.”

The relief he felt was so powerful he nearly staggered. Cloud slowly exhaled. Sephiroth slipped back to a cool expression of disinterest and turned to the piles of paperwork on his desk.

“Now, I believe you have work to do.”

Cloud straightened and nodded firmly.

“Yes, sir.”

He exited, a new fire burning in his eyes. He didn’t pretend to understand all the things this man did, but if he could still walk with his head high while serving his interests, then serve his interests he would. Scarlet would learn not to cross him.

He opened his cell phone and scanned the repertory until he found the number he always called when Yuffie couldn’t help him anymore. A low voice answered after a few rings.

“Valentine here.”

 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon, Cloud was filing the paperwork for Tseng, because Sephiroth’s expectations certainly didn’t stop when Scarlet decided to be a bitch.

He had turned on the television on the wall, tuned, as always, to his favourite news channel. Sephiroth had such a broad range of interests it never hurt to stay informed. His boss still sometimes managed to surprise him by donating a large sum of money to an unknown association or hiring an artist he had never heard of before, but it happened less and less often. Cloud liked to think it meant he was getting better at his job. Was it sad he felt proud of that?

So far, there had been a mention of Scarlet’s kid and her outrageous claims, but the main focus was, as always lately, on that creepy Professor Hojo. The guy was apparently a big-shot scientist that had recently gotten fired from the military. No reason had been given, but if Cloud had had to guess, he would have said it had to do with “unethical practices”.

Ever since he had first appeared on TV a few months ago, Hojo had been prattling on about some “genetically modified humans” that had been created by the government and had escaped a while back. It seemed like science-fiction, but the incredible thing was that he actually had scientific data and recordings to back up his claims. The scientific community was in complete turmoil since he had started unveiling them, and a few very awkward interventions from dumb military dignitaries had only seemed to confirm Hojo’s allegations instead of dispelling them.

Now the government seemed so scared of further blunders it confined itself to timid denials and mostly frothed around the mouth in silence while Hojo’s claims gained more and more support. The dear professor wanted everyone to closely watch their neighbours, because _they could be mutants_. And obviously, mutants were dangerous and had to be locked up under Hojo’s careful supervision. Cloud was half-certain Hojo had been the one to create these genetically modified humans in the first place, with or without support from his superiors.

If the “mutants” existed. He still didn’t know if he was ready to believe that. Most of the people who didn’t have a PhD in biology had been sceptic until, a few weeks ago, the whole shebang had taken unbelievable proportions, all because of a video. An amateur video recorded from a cell phone, at that. But even if the picture was grainy and the framing tentative at best, it clearly showed a winged humanoid figure sailing through a city night sky. It could have been waved away as a fake, if some smartass hadn’t deduced the location where the video had been filmed and realized one nearby building had a security camera pointed right in that direction. And lo and behold, the camera footage on that night showed a human with wings too.

Now, half the country was convinced Hojo’s words were gold, and the rest spouted religious nonsense about angels and penitence. Or couldn’t have cared less, like Cloud.

His desk phone rang and Cloud turned from the umpteenth rerun of the security camera footage to pick up the call.

“Mr Sephiroth’s personal assistant.”

“Good afternoon Mr Strife, this is the front desk. Mr Rhapsodos and Mr Hewley are here to see Mr Sephiroth.”

Cloud’s eyebrows rose in appreciation.

“I see. Please send them up.”

Finally some good news! Angeal Hewley and Genesis Rhapsodos were Sephiroth’s closest friends. They never took appointments to see him, but not only was Sephiroth generally well-disposed to receiving them, he was often in a better mood after their visits. At least, it used to be the case; the last few weeks had been tense, for some reason. But as a bonus, Angeal rarely came without his own personal assistant.

Cloud waited for them before the elevators. Sure enough, when one of the set of doors opened, there were three men in the cabin: actor Angeal Hewley, whose rough charm and muscular build had on the big screen a success that was second only to Sephiroth’s own, especially when combined with his approachable and humble personality; fashion designer Genesis Rhapsodos, better known for his flamboyancy and the sharp tongue Sephiroth shared with him but only used in private; and Zack Fair, Angeal’s PA and Cloud’s very own best friend.

“Sirs,” Cloud greeted.

Zack caught his eyes above Angeal’s shoulder and smiled, but Genesis was already striding forward like he owned the place.

“Ah, Cloud!” he exclaimed. “We were just talking about you!”

“Is that so?”

Genesis flung an arm around his shoulders. Cloud barely blinked, so used was he to the man’s tactile personality; not that it ever failed to put him ill at ease.

“I was lamenting to Angeal how rotten your day must have been so far. You must be about ready to consider quitting working for that unbearable man, no?”

Another one of Genesis’ not so subtle attempts to get him to work for him. Cloud let it slid like water on a duck’s feathers. Angeal came closer with a smile of apology; for Genesis’ behaviour or Sephiroth’s, Cloud always had trouble telling.

“How did he take the news?”

Cloud made an effort to be objective. This day had about run him to the ground, but to be fair, it had started hours before he or Sephiroth had even heard about Scarlet’s latest attack.

“He has been worse,” he found himself saying. “Though actually, he seems a bit distracted.”

Genesis and Angeal shared a strange look Cloud was unable to interpret.

“Really,” Genesis said, his tone flat.

It called for no answer. Cloud shrugged off his arm in the most polite way he could and half turned away.

“Well, if you’ll follow me.”

Zack immediately joined his side while Angeal and Genesis fell in behind.

“Hey Spike,” he whispered. “Rough day?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Cloud sighed. “Then again, I always say that.”

Zack laughed.

“Yeah, you do. You need holidays, little guy!”

Cloud snorted.

“Anyway, it’s good you guys are here. At least you’ll distract him long enough for me to do some actual work without him interrupting every ten minutes to ask for the file on a ten years old legal case or a study of feasibility for a brand new architectural project in Wutai.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I swear he’s been even more restless than usual, lately.”

“Which means?” Zack asked.

“What?”

“Well, you’re the expert on Sephiroth’s moods, here. Why is he like that?”

Cloud gave him a weird look. He was the expert? Since when?

“I’m his PA, not his psychologist. He doesn’t bare his heart and soul to me, you know. If he was a normal human being, I’d say he’s anxious, but it’s Sephiroth; he doesn’t have time for petty things like anxiousness.”

Zack just smiled, looking oddly satisfied. Whatever. Cloud waved him back when they reached Sephiroth’s office. He firmly knocked on the door and slipped inside without waiting for an answer.

“Angeal and Genesis are here, sir.”

Sephiroth’s demanding glare softened somewhat.

“Of course. Let them in.”

Cloud opened the door wide and let the three men come in.

“You and I should go out with the girls one of these days,” Zack slipped him with a wink while passing by.

Cloud gave him a faint smile and got out, leaving them in privacy.

Angeal and Genesis naturally settled in two of the three big leather chairs facing Sephiroth’s desk. Without a thought, Zack took the third one at Angeal’s side. Although these three men were far out of his station, whenever they were alone, Zack was not only Angeal’s employee; he was a friend. It only made him regret that there was no fifth chair in this office for Cloud.

“He’s got you totally figured out, you know,” he said as soon as he was seated.

Sephiroth gratified him with a coldly curious glance.

“I agree,” Genesis said with a smug smile. “Cloud knows you so well it’s a delight to see. I wonder how long it’ll take him to figure out the truth on his own.”

Sephiroth stared at them, unimpressed.

“My decision stands. We are not getting Strife involved in this.”

Genesis ostensibly examined his nails.

“I wonder if he wouldn’t like a less secretive boss…”

“And stop trying to whisk my employee away, Genesis.”

Genesis simply smiled. Their camaraderie hadn’t always been so easy, Zack remembered. Back when all three of these men had started their actor careers, Genesis had viewed Sephiroth as a dangerous rival. Their relationship had gotten more and more strained, and there was no doubt the group of three friends would have imploded if Genesis hadn’t finally found his calling in fashion design.

Angeal, always the voice of reason, refocused the conversation on the true reason for their visit.

“Hojo is getting more and more dangerous. Zack found evidence he might be associating with the mayor.”

Sephiroth closed his eyes and sighed through his nose.

“I know. I had a meeting with that imbecile scheduled for today. I had to get Strife to cancel all my contacts with the city council until I can figure out what their game is.”

“It would be easier if Cloud knew…” Genesis couldn’t resist quipping.

“Don’t taunt me, Genesis,” Sephiroth snarled. “Do I have to remind you all of this mess is your fault in the first place? Hojo’s claims would have died out in time if you hadn’t found it opportune to take a midnight flight in the middle of the goddamn _city_.”

Genesis’ mouth snapped close and his face took on a dark and stubborn set. He didn’t answer, though; he and Sephiroth had had enough arguments about his lapse of judgment to last them a lifetime.

“Heidegger is probably reacting purely out of fear,” Angeal said, trying to calm the mood. “He is too scientifically challenged to have figured out how much we’d be worth to the right buyers. He just wants 'mutants' out of his streets.”

“Which only means that whether he gets us alive or dead is no matter to him,” Sephiroth darkly pointed out. “And he has enough men to put us at risk.”

“They have no idea what to look for, though,” Zack optimistically said. “Come on, it’s a big city, there is only three of you. For all they know, you could have fled after the video and be anywhere in the world right now.”

“That seems more and more tempting,” Genesis confessed.

“And yet, Hojo is still focusing on this city,” Sephiroth commented. “ _He_ is no fool, unlike Heidegger. I think I am being targeted.”

There was a dumb silence.

“Why do you think that?” Angeal asked, worried.

“First Heidegger taking a personal interest in joint projects between the city and my company, and now Scarlet practically shooting for a DNA test on her progeny. The timing is too coincidental.”

“I told you years ago to get this hair dyed,” Genesis commented.

Sephiroth glared at him but didn’t answer. Genesis was entitled to feeling smug, when Sephiroth had been so adamant about his mistake from a few weeks back. Sephiroth had known it was a risk to keep his natural hair colour, but it had been both a statement and one of his rare concessions to futility. Besides, it had gotten him a lot of attention in the acting business when he had first started, which had been a welcome boost to his career. Most people thought the silver hue _was_ a dye, but someone like Hojo might have doubts.

“What are you going to do about Scarlet?” Zack asked.

A softer look flashed across Sephiroth’s face, so fast most people would have missed it. As it was, Zack nearly did.

“Strife is taking care of it. Shut up, Genesis.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Did something happen?” Angeal asked with a teasing smile.

“No,” Sephiroth answered with a perfectly straight face.

Which essentially meant “yes but I’ll be keeping it to myself, thanks”. Zack was getting rather good himself at noticing certain things about Sephiroth; like the fact that he always did that when he was thinking about something surprising that Cloud had done and Sephiroth approved of: nearly smile for half a second, then pretend nothing had happened. It had become something of a game, really. Angeal and Genesis always made it a point to ask when he slipped, even if they already knew his answer.

Zack sighed, disheartened.

“Guess that means Cloud won’t be having any free evening for a while. Sephiroth, you slave driver.”

“I don’t pay him to hang out with you, Zack.”

Yes, Sephiroth truly had strange, strange ways to show he cared. Poor Cloud.


	2. Chapter 2

“I got the list. It’s quite… long.”

“Isn’t it,” came the deadpan answer from his headset.

Cloud rolled his eyes. _‘Scarlet, you slut,’_ he couldn’t resist thinking—which was one of the numerous insults he’d never have allowed himself if he wasn’t so utterly sick of the woman.

“By how much do you think you can shorten it?”

“I’m doing my best, Cloud.”

“Well, since the best guy on the market is doing his best… I’ll be expecting half of it, then.”

Vincent paused.

“Your boss is rubbing off on you.”

“Is it too much?”

“No. You’re right. I _am_ the best.”

“Cloud!” someone called.

“Then I’ll be waiting.”

Cloud ended his call and turned to find Genesis striding to him.

“There you are,” the designer said with a smile. “I need your advice.”

Oh God, no.

“I don’t have an eye for fashion,” he tried to protest like numerous times before.

Of course, it didn’t stop Genesis from looping an arm through his and tugging him along.

“Nonsense! You know better than anyone what works with Sephiroth!”

From his grin, there was probably some badly veiled subtext in these words. Cloud firmly didn’t think about it. Genesis brought him back to the open doorway to Sephiroth’s huge living room.

Sephiroth owned the entire building that housed the SOLDIER Company, but on the top floor was his penthouse; just one floor away from his work office, of course. Cloud spent his fair share of time here and thought the place was ridiculously big for one single person. Of course, from “private” receptions to meetings with his closest collaborators, Sephiroth always found a way to make it livelier, although certainly not a place for leisure activities (if he even knew what these words meant). And then there was the helicopter landing pad on the roof, which was just so ludicrous Cloud liked to pretend it didn’t exist.

Today, the penthouse was home to Genesis’ latest modelling fantasies. He claimed Sephiroth was one of his best inspirations, and when it suited him, Sephiroth actually agreed to be experimented upon. And of course, when he did, Cloud had to be there in case his boss suddenly felt the urge to organize a party or to finalize a business agreement with so-and-so. Never mind that Cloud had a ton of work and would have been much more efficient in his office, with his computer and his paper files.

At least he liked the place. Like Sephiroth’s office, it was decorated in the modern style, all sleek metal fixtures, tasteful grey, white, and pale green hues. And bay windows; Sephiroth loved his bay windows. Cloud actually did, too.

Genesis pushed him forward. Although the penthouse was usually pristine, at that moment the living room looked like half a dozen suitcases of clothes had exploded everywhere on the dark grey couches and armchairs, not to mention the coffee table. Three young women were arranging the clothes in some kind of esoteric pattern or waiting on Genesis to get him drawing supplies or tape measure. Cloud no longer bothered to remember their names: each time Genesis came, all three of his assistants had changed. As a general rule, he tired of his employees very easily, which was one of the many reasons Cloud had never seriously considered his job offers.

Sephiroth was leaning against the heavy sideboard that ran along the whole length of one of the walls, eyes on the impressive view of the city offered by the huge windows by his side. Cloud was grateful he wasn’t looking at him, because he nearly swallowed his tongue.

Genesis had _encased_ him in leather. _Black_ leather, which was really one of Sephiroth’s best colours. Long black leather coat, black leather pants, black leather boots, black leather gloves… Cloud knew Genesis had a preference for leather, especially red one when he was wearing it himself, but this was just… And my God, why wasn’t Sephiroth wearing a shirt?

“What do you think?” Genesis brightly asked. “I keep feeling there is something missing, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Cloud knew better than to point out the shirt omission. He was not naïve enough to think it had been an innocent mistake. Sephiroth had turned when Genesis had spoken and was aiming a disinterested stare at Cloud. He avoided meeting those green eyes and unwillingly glanced at the arms Sephiroth had crossed over his half-bare chest, then at the flattering way the coat framed his legs where he had crossed them. Cloud suddenly found himself engrossed in the tablet he was carrying around.

“Maybe the boots should be taller,” he blandly suggested.

When in doubt with Genesis: propose the most outrageous addition he could think of. What nearly gave Cloud a nosebleed was always perfectly tame for the fashion designer, and for some reason, often exactly what he had been looking for. Sure enough, Genesis’ eyes brightened.

“The boots… Yes! That’s it exactly! Cloud, you truly are a genius!”

He squeezed his shoulders, delighted, and Cloud mumbled a “no problem” without looking up from his accounting data. As long as he never had to see that outfit again, he’d die happy. He barely had time to sleep these days, let alone indulge his libido.

 

* * *

 

When Cloud hung up after Vincent’s latest update, he found he had a missed call from Tifa. He sneaked a glance around him. Well, it was around midnight, far after the time anyone could have found it unprofessional to take care of personal matters, even if there had been any employee left on the dark floor. Though really, Sephiroth was the only one who could have found anything reprehensible in that in the first place, the big hypocrite.

He checked Tifa’s voice message.

“Hey Cloud, it’s me.”

There was a hubbub of conversations behind her. She had clearly phoned from the bar.

“I saw Zack and Aerith tonight, they just left. Zack told me you were still up to your neck in that business with Scarlet, so I guess I won’t be seeing you for at least a few days more. That Sephiroth, he has some nerves letting you clean up his messes! Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the kid was his. Maybe it’d even do him some good to have to take responsibility for once in his life. Ah, sorry; I know it’d only make your job worse. Anyway, take care of yourself and try to get some sleep tonight, alright? Bye.”

Frowning, Cloud ripped his headset from his ear and threw it on his desk. Tifa never had much good to say about Sephiroth, which was understandable. Cloud himself rarely said anything positive about him, especially when with his friends, and he was used to her snide comments on his boss and her pleas for him to quit the job already. But for some reason, he felt very annoyed with her right now.

Maybe it was because she was making Sephiroth into some kind of irresponsible jetsetter when she barely knew him and had no idea of the kind of weight he pulled everyday. Or maybe it was because he knew Scarlet’s child was not Sephiroth’s and he got annoyed by default every time someone suggested it, lately.

He trusted Sephiroth to have told him the truth, with a whole-hearted determination that would have been scary if it hadn’t been his usual way of dealing with the man: whole-hearted frustration, whole-hearted weariness… and yes, okay, whole-hearted faith. He just wanted to hurry the hell up and have everyone know what he already did, so that he didn’t have to listen anymore to the same repetitive interviews of Scarlet proclaiming:

“I know Sephiroth and I are incompatible. I just want him to take responsibility for the baby. If he could at the very least come see him… Brian is his son, after all!”

All with the tragic quavering voice of a passionate mother. Scarlet was a top-rate actress, that was for sure.

He slid a glare to his office TV that was still on, its volume turned low, but he didn’t even have the satisfaction of pinning Scarlet’s beautiful face with a dark look. Instead, the current news report was on another hot subject.

“For God’s sake, someone get that creep off the air!” Cloud hissed, frustrated beyond belief.

Why put Hojo on at such an ungodly hour? His face alone would be enough to give anyone nightmares.

“Indeed.”

The voice had been so unexpected that Cloud jumped half a foot in his chair. Sephiroth was calmly leaning against the doorjamb.

“Don’t _do_ that!” Cloud blurted, wide-eyed and clutching at his shirt where his heart had skipped a few beats.

He’d never use that tone of voice with his boss in normal circumstances, but damn it, he had nearly died here! Sephiroth’s lips twitched up.

“What’s the matter, Strife? Were you afraid dear Professor Hojo had sneaked up behind you with a steak knife? Or maybe a big syringe?”

“God, please don’t even joke about that. I totally wouldn’t put it past him.”

“What an unusually quick judgment on your part, Cloud.”

He had said “Cloud”. What had he done wrong, now? Cloud took the safe way out and shrugged without a word. Sephiroth looked at the TV.

“Don’t you think he’s an upstanding citizen to be warning the masses at such great personal risk for himself?”

No, he didn’t.

“Do you intend to help in the search for these genetically modified humans, sir?”

What Cloud really meant to say was: _“please don’t tell me your next fancy will be the financing of a global manhunt for a guy with feathers, you jerk”_. If Sephiroth was already annoyed with him for some mysterious reason, though, he was probably better off leaving out his irritation.

Sephiroth didn’t turn his head, but his eyes slid to Cloud. It made him shiver whenever he did that: it gave him the impression that Sephiroth was testing him.

“Do you think I should?”

Cloud blinked, baffled.

“Sir?”

Since when was Sephiroth asking for his point of view on what he wanted or didn’t want to do? The only thing he ever asked of Cloud was to check if his most extreme projects were physically doable, not if he was okay with them.

“Do you think these creatures should be hunted?”

Cloud stared. It was definitely some kind of test, but as with every time it happened, Cloud had no idea of what he was being judged on or against. So, as with each time, he answered honestly.

“I don’t know, sir. I guess it all depends.”

Sephiroth raised a single eyebrow to encourage him to continue. Cloud looked down at his desk to gather himself.

“We hear a lot of talk about how dangerous these 'mutants' could be, but I noticed it’s mostly Hojo or the guys who know nothing solid that get busy spreading paranoia around. I have yet to hear someone who seriously studied Hojo’s data tell us we are dealing with killing machines and inborn assassins here. Hojo never gave a detailed timeline for their escape from military confinement, either, or even a number of 'specimens' on the loose. If they have truly been living amongst normal humans for years, my guess is, if they are that dangerous, they attacked people years ago and have already been dealt with. If they are not, well… If the worst there is out there is a guy with wings, I’d say: good for him! I sure wish I had some, too.”

That was definitely a small smile on Sephiroth’s lips. Did it mean he had passed?

“Really? You’d want wings?”

“Of course. Don’t tell me you’re not the same. We both love heights.”

He was reverting back to short, curt sentences. Well, that was Sephiroth’s fault. He knew better than to put Cloud in a position where he had to monologue.

Sephiroth’s smile widened imperceptibly.

“And how would you know I love them too?”

Cloud gave him an odd look.

“This building’s top floors are all windows and there is a helicopter landing pad on the roof?”

Really, what kind of an idiot did he take him for?

Sephiroth turned his face away so that Cloud barely saw the edge of his smile anymore.

“Damn, but those fools are right,” Sephiroth sighed, but it seemed mostly meant for himself.

Then he turned on his heels and exited the office with a swish of long, long hair.

“Carry on, then.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cloud’s eyes followed him through the glass walls until he disappeared in the direction of the elevators.

“Good night, sir,” he whispered to himself.

What had that been about, anyway?

 

* * *

 

Cloud entered the SOLDIER Company lobby and crossed it with the quick and furious strides of a man about to go on a rampage. The two employees waiting before the elevators took one look at his face and fearfully backed away, letting him take the arriving cabin for himself. Cloud got in and stabbed the button for the last executive floor.

Once the doors had closed, one of the employees turned to the other.

“Had you ever seen Strife that angry?” she whispered, wide-eyed. “Do you figure it’s about that thing with that Scarlet woman?”

The other, older one hitched his glasses up to gain some composure back.

“I don’t know, but it sure looks like the boss outdid himself this time.”

Inside the cabin steadily rising though the building, Cloud’s blood was boiling in his veins. Five years. Five years he had been working for this man, handling everything from the paperwork for billions worth business contracts to finding out for him the favourite chocolate brand of the latest lady he was courting. With one look at his files, Cloud could have recited the price tag of about every item or furniture in Sephiroth’s apartment, including but not limited to his clothes, shampoo and toothbrush.

Which only meant that being so thoroughly caught off guard today had felt like a slap across his face.

The elevator doors opened and Cloud marched out in a beeline to Sephiroth’s office. The secretary who had been managing Sephiroth’s calls while Cloud had been out rushed to bar his path. Her determination to do her job despite the obvious fact that his behaviour was scaring her was commendable, and Cloud felt obligated to stop.

“Mr Sephiroth is in a meeting right now,” she said, eyeing him as if he might explode on her.

Drat.

“With who?”

“Mr Hewley and Mr Rhapsodos.”

Good enough. He handed her his briefcase.

“Thank you for the warning. Please take this to my office.”

She nodded and left with unusual celerity. With the way employees were reacting since he had gotten out of his car, he must have looked murderously angry. Or maybe they just weren’t used to seeing him more than mildly annoyed. His unflappable façade was failing him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He remembered himself enough to knock on Sephiroth’s door, then immediately entered. It took everything he had not to slam the door behind him. Sure enough, Angeal, Genesis and Zack were seated opposite Sephiroth. They had all looked up.

“Strife, what is the meaning of…” Sephiroth started to say, glaring.

Then he took a good look at his face and cut himself off. Whatever expression he was wearing was even warning his boss off. _Good_.

 “Sir,” Cloud said in such an icy voice he saw Zack flinch out of the corner of his eyes.

He crossed the room while completely ignoring Sephiroth’s guests and hefted the nondescript grey suitcase he was carrying.

“I thought you’d like to know I was just intercepted at the lab and offered an outrageous amount of money for a sample of your DNA.”

He set the suitcase on his boss’ desk, turned it towards the man and opened it. It was filled to the brim with rows and rows of banknotes, the total of which actually being more than he was making in a year. Sephiroth had stilled. He kept his eyes on the case, shoulders rigid.

“What were you doing at the lab in the first place?” he asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Cloud wouldn’t have thought his own voice could go further in the silent threats department. He was wrong. When he answered, all inflections had dropped off it and it had jumped down a few octaves. It sounded like the voice of a hired killer.

“Excuse me?”

Of course it didn’t impress Sephiroth. He actually looked him in the eyes without flinching.

“I impressed upon you the necessity of never presenting my DNA to a lab of any kind. Or did you forget, Cloud?”

He didn’t know what made him snap: the edge of self-righteous anger in this voice and these eyes, or that thrice-damned “Cloud” in his mouth.

Cloud slammed his hands on the desk. Sephiroth actually jumped, along with everyone else in the room.

“I was there, you smug asshole,” he growled, “because I have been spending a ridiculous amount of time, effort, money and even personal dignity these past few weeks to get DNA samples of every goddamn man that slut you made the mistake of bringing in your bed could have bred with, all because of a ludicrous whim you, as always, never bothered to explain.”

Although Sephiroth’s eyes were wider than he had ever seen them, the man made an attempt to speak. Cloud steamrolled him, so mad he was beginning to see white in the corner of his vision.

“A whim,” he continued, voice rising to something that was barely short of a shout, “that will be costing me twice as much time, effort, money and personal dignity in the future when I will now have to personally screen every single person that’ll be admitted in your presence, as well as change the cleaning staff of your penthouse and office every fucking day in such a way that no one could predict it and attempt to corrupt them, and that’ll only be when I’ll manage to find someone on such short notice and not have to do it myself; all so that no one will get a piece of that hair you never bothered to tell me was worth so much, when you leave it lying around _everywhere_ , you ridiculously vain diva! Unless you forgot _that_ is DNA too?”

He pointed at Sephiroth’s hair, which he was honestly getting sick of at this point. How the man could be so brilliant most of the time and overlook something so obvious was beyond him. To think that Sephiroth had the _gall_ to accuse him of having forgotten or _ignored_ his latest seemingly random order, when he was the one who had never given him the information necessary to properly follow it!

Thoroughly disgusted, he turned on his heels before he found himself doing something he might regret.

“I don’t even know why I fucking bother,” he growled, striding to the door.

He stopped just short of leaving and added without turning back:

“Oh, and just so you know, _sir_ , these creeps that were ready to pay so much for a bit of your DNA are now the proud owners of a piece of hair from our mayor. _Have a good day._ ”

And this time he _did_ slam the door.

No one in the room moved for close to a full minute. Sephiroth’s eyes wouldn’t leave the door. Angeal was the first one to break the silence by awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Please tell me this man has a twin,” Genesis said, eyes bright with surprise and mirth.

“Sephiroth, what did you do?” Zack wailed. “You broke my sweet, shy Cloud!”

Sephiroth pressed two fingers to his temples.

“Let’s focus on the current problem,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument.

“You mean, the fact that Cloud just owned you?” Zack had to ask.

“The _bribe_ ,” Sephiroth hissed, but Angeal’s smile and Genesis’ snicker were worth being the target of his mightiest glare.

 

* * *

 

That very evening, Cloud was furiously processing, stamping and filing documents. The shit he had had to endure lately because of the Scarlet mess had already been bad enough. When added to all the extra work that had just spontaneously spawned from Sephiroth’s _hair_ , he was behind on so much of his usual tasks that he was about ready to throw himself out of the window. When he actually snapped a pen in his agitation, the urge to throw its remains at the wall in anger was so strong he had to stop, close his eyes and take deep, deep breaths.

He dropped the pieces of the pen on the ink stain that was quickly forming on his pile of files and let himself fall against the back of his chair, head lolling back in pure misery. He was so nervously exhausted he felt like crying. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like that, let alone over a pen.

But the problem wasn’t really the pen, was it?

The problem, and fuck his dignity, the problem was that Sephiroth didn’t trust him. Five years of working for him, of being the very best personal assistant someone like Sephiroth could ever hope for, of not asking for anything that wasn’t readily being given to him; and the man didn’t trust him. Cloud had thought he knew his boss’ life about as well as anyone could, maybe even better than Angeal and Genesis. And then a complete stranger had stopped him when he had been about to enter the lab with half a dozen DNA samples, and he had offered him enough money to buy a small jet in exchange for what he had thought was a piece of hair from Sephiroth. That hair he had seen about every day of his life for the past five years was apparently worth a small jet.

Worth, Cloud hadn’t known.

What else was going on here that he knew nothing about? Did Angeal and Genesis know? Did Zack?

No. He had to stop that, or he’d end up persuaded half the world was conspiring against him and drive himself in a nice little corner of martyrdom. Been there, done that. It was not a nice place to be. He had been a whiny teenager, always prompt to blame someone else. Working for Sephiroth had forced him to grow a backbone fast, and he’d deal with this the same way he had dealt with everything else since then: by reminding himself that Sephiroth was an asshole.

And if he still felt like crying and the bitterness at the back of his throat was nearly choking him, well, no one had to know.

In fact, it was about time he stopped hiding in his office like a kid. Hours before, he had noticed Angeal, Genesis and Zack leaving Sephiroth’s office. He had kept his head down, even though he had felt all of them glancing at him. They hadn’t stopped, not even Zack. He hoped they wouldn’t think any less of him for his outburst. It had been immature of him to not at least have waited until Sephiroth was alone. What if the bribe wasn’t something Sephiroth would have wanted to share with them? His boss would be justified in being furious with him, too.

All afternoon, Cloud had kept himself engrossed in his work, neck deep in phone calls and emails and schedules. He thought he had seen Sephiroth’s silver hair leave from the corner of his eye, but he had defiantly not looked up. Still, this pile of papers on the corner of his desk was waiting for Sephiroth’s signature. Now that he was mostly done pouting, he could at least check that the man was really gone.

Getting up, he took the pile and went to do just that. No one answered when he knocked. He tried the door and found it locked. Despite his resolution, he couldn’t help feeling relieved. He sighed, got his key card from his pocket and unlocked the door. No, no Sephiroth: the office was dark and empty. Might as well tidy up, since he had warned the cleaning staff off for the day.

Cloud quickly discovered there wasn’t much to do. Sephiroth was a neat person, okay, but all at once, there was mysteriously no piece of silver hair left lying around. Cloud took the office bin and went to empty it in his own, and he tried to tell himself it was ridiculous to feel happy. Sephiroth had only realized the logic of his words, he had certainly not done it to placate him.

But once he had cleaned and locked up, he still felt like seeing the man. How purely masochistic of him.

He went back to his computer and opened the database of the building’s security system. Yes, the master key card had been used to access the penthouse sometime in the early evening. No one had left since. That meant Sephiroth was home… But so, what? He didn’t exactly have an excuse to intrude at such a late hour. These papers could wait until the next day… and he would have to, too.

Dissatisfied, but resigned, Cloud was about to log out when he noticed something strange. The elevators were… offline? He stared. Only someone with an administrator access to the security system would have been able to turn them off; that meant only Cloud himself, Sephiroth, or one of the two night guards, Cid and Barret. All of these people knew Cloud tended to go home especially late. Even Sephiroth would have warned him beforehand and given him the chance to avoid taking the stairs down from such a ridiculously high floor. Or he hoped he would have, anyway.

And it didn’t even begin to explain why anyone would have felt it necessary to turn the elevators off in the first place, especially in the middle of the night when no maintenance could possibly have been scheduled. Was the system spouting wrong info? He made a trip to the elevators and tried calling them, just in case. But no, they didn’t move.

Frowning, he returned to his office to call Barret and Cid. But when he put the office phone to his ear, he heard nothing. No dial tone. No telephone, no elevator… But the lights were still on, so it couldn’t have been a power cut.

Cloud was beginning to have a really bad feeling about this. He had to check on Sephiroth, _now_. He rushed to the staircase, but stopped himself before barging through the door. Some instinct made him slip soundlessly through it, instead. The stairs were cold and dark, barely lit by the dim glow of the emergency exit panels. A solid door with a complex locking mechanism barred the stairs up. He slid his card in the slot. Even the quiet click of the door unlocking made him wince. He tiptoed up, heart in his throat. He was probably being paranoid, nothing more, but…

That’s when he noticed it: the reason why it was so cold in the stairwell. Up there, someone had propped the door to the rooftop wide open, letting the faint city lights spill in. Sephiroth wouldn’t have done that. He had the key, and he was never that careless.

And the door to the penthouse was slightly ajar, its lock a busted mess.


	3. Chapter 3

Cold fear gripped Cloud. If anything had happened to Sephiroth… He slid up to the door and strained his ears. He could hear voices coming from inside, but too far away to be distinct.

He gently nudged it open a bit wider. He saw someone inside, but their back was turned to him. Not a very good sentinel. And yet… a particularly well-equipped one. Bulletproof vest, dark and functional clothing, and he thought he could see the butt of a rifle resting on their elbow.

He was way out of his league. Cloud soundlessly backed up and prepared to run downstairs to call the police.

And then there was a scream.

Cloud’s blood turned to ice in his veins. This voice screaming in agony… Sephiroth!

Without a thought more in his head, he slid through the door. The guard was straining forward to better hear the scream, something like glee in his body language. Livid, Cloud picked up a heavy crystal statuette that had been resting on a small table and swung it with all he had. The guard collapsed, unconscious. Dead? At that moment, Cloud didn’t really care.

The scream had stopped and been replaced with angry yelling. Those were Genesis and Zack’s voices!

Cloud picked up the rifle and slid it through the closest door into one of the guest rooms. Then he snatched the handgun from the guard’s holster and rushed as quickly as he dared to the entrance to the living room, the only room lit brightly in the penthouse. He peeked in.

Three more men in the same dark clothes, armed to the teeth, were holding Angeal, Genesis and Zack at gunpoint. One of their colleagues lay unconscious on the floor. Sephiroth was kneeling in the middle of the room, his long silver hair tangled in the grip of a fifth man who was holding a bloody knife. A long, deep gash was drenching the back of his shirt in blood and his face was contorted by the pain.

For a brief instant, Cloud’s vision went completely white.

He heard a snicker and only then noticed another man. This one had a white doctor’s coat on instead of a bulletproof vest, and he seemed content to stand and smirk, hands calmly joined behind his back.

It would have been impossible not to recognize that face. Professor Hojo. What the…?

“Now, if you are quite done with that little teenage rebellion phase,” that much-hated voice said, “I believe it is time we go, no?”

Even through the pain, Sephiroth managed to slit his eyes open to shoot him a look of pure venom.

“All three of us would rather die than fall once more in your hands, Hojo!” Genesis yelled, livid.

“Ah, but what about that extra fellow of yours, hum?”

The rifles trained themselves on a single target. If it was possible, Zack paled even more.

“Don’t involve Zack in this!” Angeal growled, appalled. “You’d shoot an innocent to get to us?”

“You are the ones who got him involved, not me,” Hojo smugly replied. “You should have known better than to share all our little secrets.”

“You haven’t changed,” Sephiroth panted. “As slimy and despicable as ever.”

The man holding him pushed his head down and raised his knife.

“Should we try this again?” he suggested with an angry grimace. “I’m not sure I got that wing of his properly.”

Hojo pursed his lips, disapproving.

“I don’t want this specimen damaged any more than strictly necessary. But since they still protest, by all means…”

“No!” Genesis screamed.

The knife glinted in the light. Cloud barely realized he was moving before he was right behind Hojo, snapping his forearm around the professor’s throat and applying the barrel of his gun against his head.

“Drop the knife!” he shouted.

Everyone froze.

“C… Cloud!” Zack said, dumbstruck.

One of the rifles was now trained on Cloud, the other two hovering worriedly between targets. The man holding the knife, apparently the leader, regarded him sternly.

“You don’t want to do that, son, believe me. Those are just mutant and mutant lovers,” he spat. “Nothing you need to be loyal to, even if you work here.”

One of Sephiroth’s wide green eyes was on Cloud despite the awkward angle. Seeing him so pale and unguarded made the blood boil in his veins.

“Drop the knife,” he growled once more, “or the good doctor loses his head.”

The man’s face grew dark and hateful.

“So you’re one of those mutant lovers too, eh,” he snarled. “Well, too bad, boy, but I know better than to fall for some paper-pusher’s bluff.”

The guy with the rifle was going to shoot, Cloud could tell. In a flash, Cloud pointed his gun down and pressed the trigger. Hojo howled and nearly collapsed against his arm, a nice bullet-sized hole gushing blood in his foot. The leader stopped, stunned. Cloud had not even dropped their staring contest to aim, and his gun was already back against Hojo’s head.

“What will it be next?” he calmly asked. “His spleen? I heard you could survive without those. I may misaim, though.”

“D… do what he says, you incompetent fool!” Hojo bellowed, half-incoherent from the pain and panic.

The man seemed to consider, his eyes reduced to two slits.

“This guy isn’t my boss,” he said. “I’d like to get him back in one piece, sure, but you’ll have to let him go, sooner or later.”

Hojo was spluttering, but Cloud ignored him. Zack was trying to tell him something with subtle hand signs. It looked like the system they had developed at social parties, when one of them was seeing someone the other’s boss wouldn’t want to meet… He felt his lips thin when he understood.

“And by then you’ll be well on your way out of the door,” he answered the man. “Unless you want Mayor Heidegger to have some serious judicial troubles.”

The guy, who was probably a mercenary, jerked. Jackpot. Heidegger was the one paying him. That meant it had been a very good thing Cloud hadn’t called the police after all, as the mayor was no doubt keeping them under control.

“I made sure to inform a trusted third party of what was going on here before barging in,” he lied. “If anyone in this room gets killed or disappears, you can be certain the investigation will turn out very badly for Heidegger. Do you have any idea how many lawyers are on Sephiroth’s payroll?”

“You’re bluffing,” the mercenary growled, but Cloud could see a thin layer of sweat forming on his brow.

Cloud wordlessly tilted his gun against its target, who let out an undignified whimper. _“Like I am bluffing with this?”_ was the silent message.

The man gritted his teeth.

“Fine!” he snapped. “Fine. We’re retreating. But this isn’t the end, you little asshole!”

He let go of Sephiroth and signalled his men to get out, his angry glare never leaving Cloud. When the three other mercenaries were in the corridor, dragging their unconscious partner with them, he said:

“Give us the doc’ back, now.”

“I’ll escort you to the door. Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

He stepped forward, pushing the heavily limping professor before him at gunpoint. The mercenaries’ leader kept glaring, but he backed off and followed his men, Cloud’s eyes trained on him. Cloud heard people rushing to Sephiroth’s side, and an instant later, Zack made his apparition next to him.

“I’m backing you up, Cloud!”

He wordlessly nodded.

Getting the whimpering Hojo up the stairs was a long and tedious process, but Cloud refused to pick him up and make himself vulnerable to an attack. Hojo seemed a completely useless fighter, but he knew better than to make assumptions. Finally, they made it to the rooftop. He could see the helicopter they had used to get here on the landing pad.

Cloud held up the scientist by the shoulder for a moment and stared at the mercenary.

“Do remember that, should anything unfortunate happen to Sephiroth or anyone else from now on, Heidegger will definitely be held responsible.”

That meant no snipers on rooftops, no suspicious accidents, no poisoning. The man glared, but there was nothing he could do. Cloud shoved Hojo against him and, taking advantage of their confusion, slammed the heavy door closed. He faintly heard a string of swear words.

“Here, take this,” he said, putting the gun in Zack’s hands.

His friend stared at it as if it was going to bite him. Cloud had already pulled his cell phone out and was dialling Barret’s number. A shrill tone rang in the stairwell, so surprisingly close it made them jump. Just a second later, Cloud heard the quiet click of the lock on the door opening to the last executive floor.

“Barret?” he shouted down the stairs.

“Boss?” a voice wheezed. “That you?”

The night guard appeared, pretty winded from the long climb up. It turned out he had come to investigate why the rooftop’s security camera had stopped functioning.

“Are ya… the one… who killed… the ‘vators?” he gasped to Cloud.

“No. We had intruders. They must have locked the elevators off, but Cid should be able to get them back up now that they’re gone. Check if the phones are back online too. And one of you welds the door to the rooftop shut. Until we can figure out how they opened it, I want it sealed.”

Barret stared, apparently still stuck at the “intruders” bit.

“Is the big boss okay?”

He glanced at the door to the penthouse and looked horrified to see its state.

“No. He’s been injured,” Cloud snapped.

He wasn’t trying to be aggressive towards Barret, but he was incredibly on edge and so tense he felt like punching someone. Barret looked stricken.

“I-I’m so sorry, boss…!”

Zack thankfully answered for him.

“It’s okay, big guy,” he said, grinning. “Cloud knows you did your best. Those guys were way too well-prepared for the kind of security a building like this should require.”

“Yes,” Cloud shortly said. “I don’t blame you. Just make sure one of you guards the door at all time until you can get it sealed, okay? I don’t think they’ll be coming back, but I don’t want to take any risk.”

He went back in the penthouse without waiting for an answer, faintly hearing Zack apologizing for his brusqueness. He was still too high-strung to care. Remembering something, he made a detour through the guest bedroom to retrieve the rifle he had hidden there. He even removed his jacket to grip the weapon through it. Those guys had been professional and there was probably no fingerprints left on it, but still.

Then he slowly made his way back to the living room and stopped in the doorway. Now shirtless, Sephiroth was kneeling before one of the sofas, heavily leaning on it. Angeal was bent over his back, the bathroom medical kit open on the floor near him. Genesis hovered over them both.

“What should we do?” he was saying.

“I can’t see the damage like this,” Angeal answered, “but if Sephiroth deploys them, it might worsen it. Damn it! We’ve never had to deal with anything like this!”

Zack came back and found Cloud there.

“I blocked the penthouse door… W-whoa,” he said, nervously eyeing the rifle in his arms. “What’s one of those still doing here? … Say, Cloud, you look awfully at ease with these things.”

He gave a doubtful look at the gun he was cradling in his hands. Cloud took it back and calmly put the security before he injured someone. Zack paled again at realizing it had been ready to fire this entire time.

“One year in the army, remember? I told you about it plenty of times.”

“W-well, yeah, but you said you left because they showed you the door. I thought you weren’t very good at it!”

“I wasn’t. Like they said, I was way too jittery. Of course, that was before Sephiroth gave me daily ulcers.”

“Nice, Strife,” said man’s hoarse voice quipped.

All three men in the living room were staring at Cloud. Angeal and Genesis looked like they had just discovered a completely new person in him. Sephiroth just seemed tired and disinterested.

Oops. He hadn’t really meant for him to hear that.

Oh, well, it was true anyway. He shrugged and looked away.

 “So, Sephiroth, did you know you had hired a bodyguard along with a personal assistant?” Zack joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Sephiroth turned back to the sofa and leaned his head down, uncharacteristically weary. His hair was pooling in his lap, tangled and matted with blood.

“Strife is a man of many talents.”

Cloud blinked. That… had sounded like a compliment. Or a lewd comment, but that wasn’t Sephiroth’s style.

“Sephiroth,” Angeal said, and he sounded apologetic. “It’s risky, but I think you’ll have to deploy them. We can’t risk an infection by leaving them in.”

Cloud had become as taut as a bow. Logically, he knew what was going to happen next. He wasn’t stupid, and everything he had heard in this past fifteen minutes could only mean one thing. But knowing and seeing were two very different matters.

He was sure he saw Sephiroth glance at him once more, as if to gauge his reaction. Then his boss’ shoulders tensed and he saw his face contort from the pain and the strain. A slit cleanly appeared on one side of his spine and the tip of something feathery started slipping out. Meanwhile, something was moving inside the gash on the other side of his back and painfully dragging itself out. Sephiroth moaned. Cloud shivered, horrified by that simple sound. He had never heard Sephiroth in pain before that day. _Never_.

“Oh man,” Zack whispered, upset. “That doesn’t look good.”

One of the wings deployed seamlessly, black, huge, graceful in its form and each of its feathers. The other one was so bathed in blood the floor and sofa were soon red with it; it was streaked with ugly gashes and hung miserably, unable to reproduce its twin’s beautiful arc. Genesis had blanched and turned away, unable to stand the sight. Zack himself didn’t look so good, while Angeal had turned grim.

Cloud rushed from the room.

“C… Cloud!” Zack called after him, distressed.

No one saw Sephiroth’s face briefly contract with an even fiercer pain than that of his wing.

But a minute later, while Angeal was desperately trying to examine the injuries, Cloud returned. He had dropped the weapons off somewhere and was lugging around a big pot of warm water, clean pieces of cloth draped over his arm. He set the pot next to Angeal and dropped to his knees, uncaring of the blood seeping in his pants. Without a word, he held a cloth to Angeal and dipped one for himself in the water. Angeal smiled at him and turned to his friend.

“You should probably lie down, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth had turned his head to look at Cloud with unreadable eyes. He seemed hesitant for an instant, as if unsure that he could move enough for that. Zack leaped to the rescue.

“Genesis, help me move the sofa!”

Genesis seemed relieved to be able to do something that didn’t imply staring at Sephiroth’s wounds. They moved the sofa back, leaving enough space on the floor for Sephiroth to lie down on his stomach without having to turn. He painfully did so and Cloud and Angeal settled on either side of his outstretched wing to wash the blood away.

The water in the pot turned red pretty quickly and Zack had to change it for them twice. The living room tiles weren’t looking much better. When they could finally see the wounds properly, they had mostly stopped bleeding. Cloud dabbed at them with one of his last clean cloths sprayed with antiseptic while Angeal tried to evaluate their gravity.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, sighing, when he sat back on his heels. “I am no expert. This is the first time this has ever happened to one of us. While they were not deployed, no less.”

“Isn’t there any doctor who would know?” Cloud asked.

“We don’t exactly go around parading our nature, you know,” Genesis bitterly answered.

Cloud felt determination set in.

“There has to be a doctor somewhere you should be able to trust; someone who would have seen Hojo’s data and still think you have a right to treatment and privacy. I’ll look! He has to exist.”

Genesis looked doubtful, but Sephiroth, who had been up to this point pressing his front to the ground and concentrating on taking deep breaths, turned his head to look at Cloud, amusement shining in his eyes.

“I’ll leave it to you, then.”

“Yes!”

He didn’t even care if he was being mocked. He was going to find that doctor, damn it. Zack laughed and ruffled his hair.

“That’s my Cloud! Let me help with that, okay? It bugs me too, that Angeal could get hurt on his back and not have anyone to treat him.”

“Okay.”

He had to stop for a moment and stifle a giant yawn. What time was it anyway? Now that there was no immediate threat to anyone’s life, exhaustion was crashing in.

Zack and Angeal were picking up the dirty clothes and the bloody water to dispose of them, while Genesis had disappeared somewhere. Finding himself unexpectedly idle all of a sudden, Cloud glanced at Sephiroth. To his surprise, he was staring at him, looking pensive.

“I remember when you started working for me,” Sephiroth said. “You were so awkward and so naïve, so easily embarrassed… I thought you wouldn’t last a week.”

“… Well, I’m still here.”

“Indeed. You are.”

He stopped a few seconds, as if hesitating.

“Cloud, I…”

The abrupt change in his mood must have shown on his face, because Sephiroth cut himself off.

“Yes?” Cloud prompted in a very cold voice.

“Did I… say anything wrong?” Sephiroth asked, and he had the gall to sound confused.

Cloud took a deep breath to stay calm. He was tired enough that if he started getting angry, he would only grow more and more incoherent. It didn’t make him any more amiable when he answered:

“Isn’t that my line?”

“… I fear I don’t understand.”

“You called me by my first name,” Cloud snapped. “You only ever do that when you are annoyed with me. And okay, you sometimes get annoyed for the most obscure of reasons, but given the circumstances you’re certainly outdoing yourself. What am I guilty of, this time?”

Because he had been rushing here on his off hours to rescue his boss from mercenaries, hired by the city mayor, no less, and had meanwhile discovered he was a genetically modified human with wings. If anyone should have been justified in feeling annoyed, it was Cloud!

Sephiroth looked surprised.

“C… Strife, I… I assure you I didn’t mean anything of the sort,” he nearly stuttered, which was unusual for him. “For that matter, I don’t believe I only ever use your first name when angry with you. You have been working for me for five years, I am used enough to you that it feels natural. I apologize if you feel I have been taking a liberty I had no right to.”

Cloud stared for a moment, confused.

“It… it’s fine,” he stammered. “I don’t mind. As long as it’s not a code for 'Strife, you screwed up; _again_ '.”

Sephiroth smiled, amused, and only then did Cloud realize he was being much more outspoken than usual with his boss. Damn; the whole experience had badly shaken him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed.

“We should get you to your bedroom. Do you think you’ll manage to walk?”

With much manoeuvring, they managed to get him on his feet, at least. He was obviously dizzy and his injured wing was hanging at a painful angle. Cloud slipped under his other arm, more worried than he wanted to admit.

“Here, lean on me.”

Sephiroth voiced no protest. On the way out, they passed Zack and Angeal who were returning.

“I’ve got it,” Cloud told Zack when he offered his help.

“Angeal, Zack,” Sephiroth said in a slightly winded voice, “feel free to stay here for the night. Genesis too. You know where the guest rooms are.”

“Thank you, Sephiroth. I think we will.”

Angeal’s worried look plainly told it was as much for his own sake than to check on Sephiroth that he was considering it. They hobbled further along the corridor, with Cloud inwardly cursing the ridiculous size of the apartment and how far the master bedroom was from the living room. Sephiroth waited until they were once more alone before speaking again:

“Cloud. What I meant to say earlier… I am sorry I kept this from you for so long.”

Cloud gave him a surprised look. Sephiroth looked faintly gray in the dim lighting.

“I want you to know it wasn’t any doubt on your loyalty or any lack of trust in you that prevented me from speaking out. I simply felt I was piling enough work on you without adding this whole mess to your responsibilities. It became especially true when Hojo resurfaced.”

“… Has Zack… known for long?” he opted to ask.

“Only since Hojo’s appearance on the media. Before this, all three of us had been trying our best to put it behind us.”

Well, they had certainly managed. An actor, a fashion designer, a businessman/actor/singer/fashion model all rolled into one, and all three of them highly successful and famous. Who would have thought those three men were actually researched by the army? It was mind-boggling.

Cloud didn’t answer before they reached the master bedroom. He pushed the door open and led Sephiroth to the bed. He helped him to get his shoes off and to settle on the side of the mattress where he could stretch his injured wing on top of the covers. Some of the injuries had reopened and were sluggishly bleeding, and Cloud took the time to dab at them until they stopped.

Sephiroth’s other wing had curled around the side of the bed until it half rested under it.

“Is that comfortable?” Cloud asked when he was done.

Sephiroth graced him with a deadpan look.

“No.”

“Oh…”

“However, I doubt even I could commission a bed big enough to accommodate my wingspan without seeing a few eyebrows rise.”

Cloud’s lips twitched. He was right in that. He had to have a wingspan of at least sixteen feet, maybe seventeen. Biggest bird Cloud had ever seen. He had to resist the urge to touch the soft-looking feathers of the intact wing.

“Well, I’ll leave you to rest.”

He was back at the door when he stopped and turned.

“Hum, sir…”

He cut himself off. Sephiroth’s good wing had twitched, its feathers ruffling, and for some reason, he was utterly fascinated.

“Sephiroth,” the man lazily said, without trying to turn to look at him.

“Uh?” Cloud let escape.

“Since we have established I am allowed to use your first name, I’d appreciate it if you could be less formal.”

_Sephiroth_ wanted him to be less formal? Miracles happened every day. Dazed, Cloud fought to remember what he had wanted to say.

“Hum… Okay. Sephiroth… In the future, I’d appreciate knowing of potential threats to your life, especially when they come in the form of crazy scientists or racist mercenaries. This kind of things is dreadful for your schedule.”

Then something even more fascinating than the twitching feathers happened: Sephiroth laughed.

“I’ll remember that,” he said, laughter still in his voice. “Take the morning off, Cloud. Good night.”

“G-good night… Sephiroth.”


	4. Chapter 4

Despite being widely renowned for his work, Dr Gast prided himself in being an approachable person. A lot of his patients were poor and often hesitant to come see him, half expecting to be refused for lack of money. Gast not only did his best to ask payment only out of those who could afford it, he also made it a point to stop and listen to every person who approached him when he was leaving the clinic. More than one of his clients had come to him in that way, not daring to phone his office to ask for a first appointment.

Even so, when he heard someone call his name on the deserted parking lot and turned to find a young person in a sweatshirt, its hood over his head and a pair of sunglasses on his face despite the late hour, even he had the urge to rush in his car and peel out of here.

He reigned himself in, though.

“Professor Gast?” the young man repeated, coming closer.

His hands were in his sweatshirt’s pockets, Gast observed. Did he have weapons in there? It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to threaten the good doctor for money. His hand closed around the taser in his coat.

“I prefer 'Doctor', if you please.”

A small smile came to what he could see of the man’s face.

“Of course, sorry. My apologies for coming to you like this, but my employer requires discretion. He needs your expertise.”

Gast didn’t let himself let his guard down.

“I see. He can’t come to my office, then?”

“No.”

“Well, if you could leave me an address and a date and time at which he would be available…”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible too. Confidentiality issues aside, that address is out of the country.”

Gast was left speechless. Sure, he had something of a reputation outside of Icicle Inn, but people that could afford searching for a doctor outside of their country generally headed for big shot experts in Midgar or Junon. Specialists on rare hereditary diseases weren’t _that_ uncommon.

“I’m sorry for being blunt, but I have to ask,” he blurted out. “Will this harm my family?”

The young man seemed taken aback, as if it wasn’t a logical question to ask when someone dressed like a gangster approached you in a deserted parking lot at eleven at night.

“Harm… Oh, no no no. There is nothing illegal in this. My employer is a perfectly respectable businessman. There _are_ some risks in our demand, but we don’t intend to blackmail you. If you refuse, then that’s that.”

Gast was doubtful.

“And these risks you speak of are…?”

The man took his hand out of his pocket. Gast tensed, but he was only holding a photograph which he wordlessly held out. He took it, intrigued. It was a picture of a black wing with several ugly slashing wounds.

“A bird?” he asked. “I’m sorry, but I don’t…”

He cut himself off. On the corner of the picture, barely visible, he had just noticed the edge of a shoulder. A very human shoulder. He gaped. He glanced up at the young man, then down at the picture. Gaped again.

Well, this wasn’t a hereditary disease.

“T-t-t-this is… This is… Oh my God,” he stammered. “Oh my _God_ , this is…”

The man was smiling.

“Yes. It is.”

“W-why _me_?”

The smile slipped off his face and he looked solemn.

“You studied that man’s data, right?”

That man… That would be Professor Hojo.

“I did my research. You’re good, you have the information needed, and you are without hesitation one of the most compassionate doctors around. If you agree to help, I expect you would be the last person to sell my employer’s information to the highest bidding.”

“No, of course. I-I would never do that.”

He glanced at the photo again, dumbstruck. This was surreal. He stared the young man in the eyes, decision made.

“I would gladly help. All I ask in return is that I am allowed to study his biological structure, nothing more.”

It had been automatic, offering that bargain, but the man smiled once more, amused.

“I think you’ll find we can afford to pay you a little more than your usual clients, doctor.”

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Gast found himself crossing a luxurious penthouse at his guide’s heels. The private jet with its elegantly lavish interior had already been hard to swallow, so this wasn’t very surprising, after all, but he still felt overwhelmed.

“Does… does your employer live here alone?” he asked.

Strife glanced at him over his shoulder, a hint of humour in his eyes. He seemed to be sharing his opinion of the place: way too big.

“Yes,” he simply answered.

Strife had shed his disguise and introduced himself as soon as they had been in the jet. Gast had been surprised to note he had been wearing a sharply pressed white shirt underneath his sweatshirt. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but this calm person with messy blond hair had finally put him at ease. He looked like someone very reliable, not a man he could see working for the mafia. The jet’s pilot, a man in his late twenties with a big amiable smile and spiky black hair, had been friendly enough to confirm the impression.

Still, he had yet to hear the name of his mysterious patient. From the jet, Strife had ushered him in a sleek-looking car with tinted windows. After a twenty minutes trip, the car had entered an underground parking lot that, judging from its reasonable size and the security measures at the entry, had to be the master of the house’s private one. From there to an elevator, and from the elevator to the penthouse. The only thing he knew was that he was in Midgar, which wasn’t much information. Midgar was big.

Strife finally stopped before a door. He knocked.

“Dr Gast is here, sir.”

It was still very early, but the answer came immediately:

“Ah, perfect. Come in.”

Strife opened the door for Gast and wordlessly gestured him in.

Gast found himself entering a huge bedroom. Two of the walls were entirely made of glass; they offered a gorgeous view of the city and bathed the room in the orange glow of the morning light, softening the dark grey hue of the floor and the remaining walls. A big bed was pushed against one of those, but even its impressive size was swallowed by the long black wing stretched on top of the covers. The bed’s occupant was lying on his stomach, his torso resting on a small pile of pillows so that he could work on the laptop open before him. He turned his head to greet them and Gast stopped in the middle of the doorway. Even he, who barely spent any time before a TV, was unable to _not_ recognize this man.

“Dr Gast,” Sephiroth Crescent said, smiling. “Forgive me for not getting up.”

“M-M-Mr Sephiroth,” Gast stammered.

Sephiroth’s smile widened.

“I see Cloud was as discreet as ever.”

Strife didn’t answer to that. He closed the door and approached the bed. Sephiroth typed a few more commands on his computer before folding his arms in front of him. Strife took the laptop, closed it and backed off a few steps. Gast took this as his cue to come closer.

“It’s truly an honour to meet you, Mr Sephiroth,” Gast nearly gushed, shaking hands with his mysterious client. “Your generous donations to the medical research field are well-known. It’ll be my pleasure to treat you.”

“Thank you. I trust Cloud has warned you of the circumstances in which I acquired these wounds?”

Gast felt his face darken.

“He has. I’m appalled by Professor Hojo’s actions. I already had my doubts about the man’s ethics, but this is much worse than I thought!”

“Then you understand why it’s necessary that your association with me remains confidential. Anything else would put you in danger.”

“Of course, I understand. My wife and my secretary know I’m out of the country for a few days, but they won’t ask questions.”

“Perfect.”

Gast spent the next half an hour studying Sephiroth’s wounded wing. The wounds had scabbed but it was still very painful to move. The main injury, the one on Sephiroth’s back, right next to the wing’s base, was especially worrying. Gast was very concerned it would impede any retraction in the future. Apart from the fact that he would be dismayed to lose an opportunity to study the way such large wings could disappear in a man’s back like Strife had described, it would put a definite stop to all of Sephiroth’s public appearances. Gast didn’t know much about the lives of celebrities, but even he could tell this would be a public relations disaster and attract way too much attraction on Sephiroth at the worst possible time. Strife looked especially grim.

“I already have dozens of journalists pushing for Sephiroth’s reaction to an information campaign I launched just before the attack,” he explained. “I have been postponing it by claiming he was injured during a burglary on the tower, which is its own hornet’s nest. The longer we wait, the bigger the risk some paparazzi will try to infiltrate the penthouse. _Again_.”

Gast cast a nervous glance to the huge bay windows.

“If it’s a risk, is such an exposed place, ah, really safe?”

“All the windows on this floor are tinted,” Strife said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“… Of course.”

“Your thoughts, doctor?” Sephiroth asked.

“Well, to be frank, I’m not sure how much I can do in these circumstances. Studying your intact wing is a big help, but since you can’t retract them separately, it can only bring me so far. Hojo’s notes were painfully lacking on details on this. A scan would help, but I’d need the equipment…”

He had mainly been talking to himself at this point, but Sephiroth said:

“Cloud.”

And Strife opened the laptop on a side table and started typing away.

“Considering the need for discretion, it may take as much as twenty-four hours to get it here. Sorry for the delay.”

“N… not at all,” Gast answered, thunderstruck.

This was definitely not his usual type of patient.

“Anything else you think would be helpful while I am at it?”

Gast rattled a short list of medicines off the top of his head and Strife dutifully typed them.

“Also…”

Gast hesitated before continuing, fearing he would be crossing an invisible line.

“If you… that is, if there were any possibility at all of studying someone with an intact set of wings…”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, doctor,” Sephiroth rebuked, and though he sounded civil enough, there was an underlying coldness to his voice that made him back off.

“Of course.”

It would have been the end of that, but Strife was frowning.

“Sephiroth…”

The man sent him a warning look.

“Strife.”

Strife’s countenance changed to a ferocious glare. The difference was so striking Gast physically recoiled.

“Oh, so now when you’re displeased with me, I’m 'Strife' again?” he spat, voice several degrees icier than his boss’.

Gast had the surprise to see Sephiroth lose his composure for a short while.

“Cloud… Don’t…”

“Save it, _sir_. This isn’t your decision to make anyway.”

And so saying, he extracted a phone from his pocket and got out. He didn’t quite slam the door, but it was a near thing. A short silence hung on the bedroom. Gast cleared his throat.

“This young man… seems quite attached to you,” he ventured.

Sephiroth’s only answer was to press his forehead against his palm and heave a heartfelt sigh.

 

* * *

 

Cloud had been expecting Angeal to volunteer, but it wasn’t actually that surprising that Genesis jumped at the occasion to be useful for Sephiroth’s recovery. For a reason unknown to Cloud, the man had obviously been wrecked with remorse since the attack and seemed to consider it his personal responsibility. Sephiroth flat out refused to have Angeal blow his cover too unless it was absolutely necessary, but at least Cloud’s outburst and Genesis’ guilt made him allow the interview with Dr Gast. Not that his disapprobation would have stopped either Cloud or Genesis; for once, they had been in perfect agreement over something.

Cloud was surprised to see Genesis’ wings were a bit smaller than Sephiroth, if still of a deep black colour. Genesis noticed his scrutiny and whispered to him while Gast was marvelling over every feather:

“Angeal’s are all white.”

He winked, as if sharing a deep secret. Cloud’s lips twitched. His appreciation of the man had sky-rocketed since he had showed himself so adamant to help.

The scanning equipment arrived, and to all of their relief, Gast was finally able to determine that the wing would heal without damage.

“I showed you how to do it, so send me regular scans,” he instructed Cloud while preparing to return to Icicle Inn. “It’ll help me determine the progression rate, and I should be able to tell you when it’ll be safe to retract them again. Do _not_ try before then, Mr Sephiroth. I understand you hate being stuck here, but it’s for the best.”

Sephiroth nodded with all the noble misery of a tragedian.

“Cloud, pay the doctor.”

“Already done. Genesis offered to double the fee I had settled on, so I had him transfer his part to your personal account and I sent Sephiroth’s payment as an anonymous donation to your clinic.”

Cloud rattled off a number that had Gast gawking at him, speechless. He tried not to smile.

“I hope this’ll be enough, considering we monopolized you for a few days.”

“I-I can’t accept that much money!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sephiroth scoffed. “This money may as well serve. I certainly have no shortage of it.”

“Besides,” Cloud added, “the less tight on resources you are, the more penniless patients you can treat, right?”

After an endless stream of thanks, Cloud sent the doctor back with Zack. He would have brought him home himself, but he had too much work to do to lose ten more hours to the round trip.

There were the journalists squabbling for a piece of Sephiroth’s thoughts on the whole Scarlet mess—it turned out little Brian’s father was another famous ex-boyfriend of hers, which had done no harm to Scarlet’s reputation; the woman had known going in this conspiracy that she had nothing to lose, evidently. There were the endless rumours flying about the heist at the penthouse or Sephiroth’s wound—and was he dying, maybe? The fans wanted to know! There was the SOLDIER Company, struggling to stay focused on its objectives when all the employees seemed to be able to talk about was Sephiroth’s empty office and the intruders that had busted the rooftop door open like in bad action movies. There were the police, which Cloud had had to contact to justify his burglary excuse and which were being suspiciously pushy about “examining the scene” despite Cloud repeatedly flashing Sephiroth’s money and celebrity at them. There was Tseng, demanding to know when Sephiroth would be healthy enough to start on the shooting.

And of course, without a doubt the most headache-inducing of all these problems, there was Sephiroth being bored out of his mind.

Cloud occupied him by having him hold phone interviews with Yuffie and whichever journalist was proving to be particularly insistent. Sephiroth knew his PR even better than Cloud, so at least he no longer had to worry about what to say to them; he just let his boss work his magic. Genesis, Angeal and Zack visited as often as they could, too, which was a relief.

But even like this, Sephiroth spent way too much time thinking, which only led to whims and scores of new projects that Cloud then had to follow on. And Cloud spending his time one floor down from Sephiroth was of course heinous to the man when he was in a creative mood.

So it was that at nine in the evening that day, Cloud was still lounging on a pile of pillows on Sephiroth’s bedroom floor, computer on his lap and papers and phone strewn everywhere in front of him.

“I’m making considerable progress lately,” Vincent was saying in his headset. “I should have what you need very soon.”

“Excellent. I knew I could count on you. Good work.”

“I’ll contact you when it’s done.”

The line cut and Cloud took off his headset to massage a faint headache. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed an intense look aimed his way.

“Yes?” he said without looking up from his laptop’s screen.

“Who was this?”

“Are you expecting me to detail every phone conversation I have with journalists, independent contractors and employees?”

_‘That’s pushing micro-management a bit far, even for you,’_ went unsaid but strongly implied.

“I sign your checks, don’t I?”

“Yes; you sign my checks to have a personal assistant who takes care of all the menial work you don’t even want to hear about. Unless you changed your mind about fan mail?”

As far as covert threats went, he could have done better, and his refusal to answer was probably a dead give-away that he was hiding something. Thankfully, Sephiroth backed off with a pensive hum.

His bedside phone rang. He picked up.

“Yes?”

After a short conversation, he hung up again.

“Cloud, dinner is at the reception.”

Cloud looked up, surprised.

“It’s nine already? Oh… Alright, I’ll pick it up for you and go back to my office,” he said, already pushing his papers in a pile.

“No, stay.”

He stopped.

“What?”

Sephiroth was slowly sitting up. He could spend more and more time upright, but it still hurt him more than to lie in bed since the weight of his wing was pulling on the main injury.

“You have yet to eat, don’t you? I ordered for two. Stay for dinner.”

It sounded more like an order than an invitation, but that was Sephiroth for you.

“… Okay,” Cloud said, blinking.

When he returned from the reception with dinner, Sephiroth was sitting on a high stool at the kitchen table, the cutlery already out for two. Seeing him like this, with his two wings curling more or less gracefully above his shoulders, clad only in soft black pants, Cloud worried once again that he might be cold when out of bed. Obviously, Sephiroth was unable to put on a shirt, but it couldn’t have been comfortable. Then he wondered exactly how impractical these wings had to be in the shower. Granted, Sephiroth had a big shower, but still…

He realized what an improper turn of thoughts it was when Sephiroth glanced up, noticed him staring and asked:

“Something wrong?”

Cloud felt himself blush. He looked down and focused on arranging dinner on the table.

“Er… No, nothing.”

He thought he saw a smile flit across Sephiroth’s face and tried not to think too much of it. They kept a light conversation going throughout dinner, mostly about the movie industry and the international news. It was strange to have a discussion with his boss that didn’t star Sephiroth or his future projects. Cloud was gratified to note conversation flew easily between them and that Sephiroth seemed genuinely interested in his point of view.

Finally, Sephiroth took a sip of his wine and said:

“I noticed there was an interesting rumour flying around about me, lately.”

“There are scores of interesting rumours flying around about you, lately.”

He was evading.

“Perhaps so, but this one had too much of a dash of truth in it.”

Cloud could only shrug and give up pretending he didn’t know what Sephiroth was talking about. Yes, of course, there had been some people trying to suggest Sephiroth had to be one of the test subjects Hojo was raving about, and that he couldn’t make public appearances because his “mutations” were showing. There had even been some so-called “witnesses”.

It had been too well-organized to be a coincidence, and it could have been pretty dangerous if Yuffie, eager to please, hadn’t gone all out on her counterattack. It hadn’t even been that hard for her, too: Cloud didn’t know how they had done it, but Sephiroth’s records, as well as his friends’, were spotless. There had to be some counterfeits in there, but they were excellent quality, virtually undetectable. It was pretty difficult to accuse someone of being a specimen escaped from a military facility when their whole life was accounted for.

“You’ll notice it backfired spectacularly. I doubt Hojo or Heidegger will try anything like that again anytime soon. It’d be twice as hard now that the hypothesis got ridiculed that badly.”

“Thanks to your journalist friend, yes?”

“Yuffie Kisaragi. Yeah. She doesn’t know anything, we just have an agreement.”

“Hum.”

Sephiroth was staring at his half-empty glass, pensive. Cloud tried to not let his own eyes wander on his naked torso.

“Something on your mind?”

It still felt weird to not tack a “sir” at the end of every other sentence. He had to watch himself less he started talking to Sephiroth like he would to a friend, which was still a bad idea. Frowning at your boss’ priorities was one thing, cursing a storm like he regularly did in his head was another entirely.

Sephiroth set his glass down.

“Cloud… I don’t think I properly expressed how thankful I am for everything you have done.”

Cloud stared, surprised.

“It’s my job, Sephiroth.”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “No. Managing my schedule and the press is your job. Being held at gunpoint and shooting a man to rescue me from mercenaries isn’t. And yet you have done all that and more… much more than I asked of you.”

Cloud shifted on his stool, ill at ease.

“Frankly, Cloud, I wake up every day amazed that you are still here at all. Considering everything I have put you through since your employment, I certainly wouldn’t fault you for getting fed up and leaving.”

Cloud was blushing, he could feel it.

“… Well, I stuck with you through you 'dating' Scarlet, which I still think of as your number one dumbest decision, so I guess you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

That was probably more uncensored than safety would have wanted, but Sephiroth was smiling.

“As a general rule, you don’t seem to think much of my choice of partners.”

Oh, no. No, no and no. Cloud didn’t want to be talking about Sephiroth’s love or, as it was more often the case, sex life. It made him angry for reasons he absolutely refused to examine.

“That’s your private life,” he primly answered, trying to ignore his red cheeks. “So long as it doesn’t lead to a PR mess, my opinion doesn’t matter much, does it?”

“It matters more than you think.”

Before Cloud could ask what he meant, Sephiroth reached across the table. He slid a hand behind his head and leant forward to press a lingering kiss to his forehead.

When he sat back, Cloud’s face had become flaming red. His eyes were wide and his head completely empty. He worked his jaw for a few seconds without finding anything to say.

“I… I should get back to work,” he finally managed.

Sephiroth let him flee the kitchen, a smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

“He did what?” Zack laughed. “Well, well. No wonder you’re so flustered!”

“I’m not flustered,” Cloud sullenly answered.

He had finally agreed to end his day early and go to Tifa’s bar with Zack and Aerith. He had decided he needed the distraction with how tense things had gotten this past week between Sephiroth and him.

Although to be honest, he was probably the only one who felt this way… Sephiroth acted no differently than usual; he hadn’t even made any allusion to what had happened, which Cloud was thankful for. However, he often saw him smiling for no apparent reason from the corner of his eyes. As for Cloud himself, he had trouble not blushing every time their eyes met. It was bad enough he still had to spend most of his workday on the floor of his boss’ bedroom! The place had never seemed to carry so many connotations before that evening in the kitchen…

Of course, Sephiroth’s three regular visitors had noticed something was wrong with him. Cloud had known Zack was biding his time to get the truth out of him. And sure enough, as soon as the evening had begun to wind down and Tifa and Aerith had stopped focusing on Cloud’s so very rare presence to engage on a conversation of their own, he had pestered him about it. Cloud hadn’t opposed much resistance; he had desperately needed to get the story off his chest.

“Are too! But you’ve always had a soft spot for the man, so I guess it’s only natural. Don’t sweat it, though, Cloud! Sephiroth isn’t the type to push the issue if you say no.”

“… So you think it meant something?”

“Well, yeah, it’s sort of obvious. I mean, we both know Sephiroth’s interests cover both ends of the spectrum. And really, I’m pretty surprised he didn’t try something before now! I only got eyes for the girls, but even I can tell you’re a gorgeous guy, Cloud. If you were a woman, Aerith might need to worry…”

Cloud shoved him and Zack laughed.

“Kidding, kidding! Aerith is my one and only girl!”

“That’s not the part I hoped you were kidding about.”

Zack swung an arm around Cloud’s shoulders and kept talking like he hadn’t said anything.

“And anyway, Sephiroth has a thing for intelligent people. Competent ones. He definitely likes people who know what they are doing and who do it well. ‘S how he ended up with Scarlet, my guess is. You can fault the woman for a lot of things, but she is a top-rated actress.”

Cloud grunted.

“So, I really have to wonder why he never tried that with you before, Cloud. I mean, you are so competent and hard at work it’s ridiculous! You fit his type to a T!”

“He’s my boss,” Cloud groaned. “He’s never looked for his lovers among his employees before, and thank God for that. I don’t even want to think about the drama and the company gossip.”

“Well, I guess,” Zack conceded. “Yeah, Sephiroth would be the type of man to respect that. But he obviously changed his mind… Sounds to me like seeing you put a bullet through Hojo to save him really made his blood boil.”

He elbowed Cloud and suggestively waggled his eyebrows.

“You’re not helping,” Cloud said, fighting against a blush.

Zack laughed.

“Hey, I already gave you my advice! Just say no and he’ll back off. Simple.”

“…”

Cloud kept silent, long enough that Zack’s smile fell and he peered at him with insistence. Cloud looked away.

“Uh, Cloud. You… don’t want to say no?”

Cloud started gnawing at his lip, a furious frown on his face. He didn’t know what he wanted.

There were so many reasons to _not_ get tangled in that kind of knot with Sephiroth. The longest the man had ever kept a lover was five months, while Cloud was absolutely not a casual relationship person; the PR backlash would be a nightmare; and Sephiroth was his _boss_ , damn it. How did you work with your boss when you were sleeping with him on the side? He’d never be able to keep a professional façade!

But on the other hand… On the other hand, there was a part of him that _wanted_ , as whole-heartedly as he ever dealt with Sephiroth. He had been ignoring it all these years, kept it hidden behind walls of professionalism and resignation; but the kiss, as chaste as it had been, had broken these walls to bits.

Zack was glancing from him to the girls, looking astonished. Aerith was leaning on the counter, pretty as always in a simple pink dress, her chestnut hair in her usual braid. She was laughing at something Tifa had said. Tifa, Cloud’s childhood friend, with her silky black hair and her confident smile.

“Oh man,” Zack said. “Uh… Cloud, you… Hum…”

He glanced at the girls once more and Cloud decided to put him out of his misery.

“Tifa has only ever been a friend to me. Nothing more.”

Zack took this sad puppy look that, together with his boundless enthusiasm, had earned him his nickname from Angeal.

“Oh, darn. And here I was, so sure you were just being shy and you’d come around eventually…”

Cloud snorted, his eyes on the amber liquid in his glass.

“Yeah, like I was supposed to come around and quit working for Sephiroth, huh? Guess my brain just doesn’t work that way.”

“So… you’re serious? About Sephiroth?”

Cloud sighed, miserable.

“I don’t know, Zack. There are so many reasons why it would be a bad idea… What happens when he moves on? I’d still have to work for him, and I don’t think I could stomach that. But I _want_ to keep working for him.”

Zack kept silent for a moment. He looked serious and was obviously putting thought in his answer.

“You know, Cloud… I don’t pretend to know Sephiroth as well as Angeal or Genesis, or even as well as you. But he’s got to know that. And he’s the last person who’d want you to quit, I mean, he’d never find anyone who’d stand him for half as long as you did!”

Cloud snorted again, agreeing completely.

“So, the fact that he’s ready to take the risk all the same… I don’t know, don’t you think it means something?”

“Like… what?”

“Well, think about it,” Zack said, scratching his ear. “A casual relationship that’ll only last a few months, versus the most competent and loyal personal assistant he’ll ever find? Seems like a no-brainer to me. So, which part of the equation is wrong?”

Cloud stared. Zack shrugged, hesitant.

“Just saying. Maybe you should talk to him before anything, Cloud.”

He spared a glance over his shoulder.

“And maybe you should talk to Tifa, too.”

 

* * *

 

Cloud did talk to Tifa. Not about Sephiroth, though, because it would have been too much in one strike. As it was, it was already an uncomfortable, miserable conversation, and it put things between them at an awkward angle. Still, Tifa didn’t cry, or at least she didn’t do it before him. He was thankful. She said she’d need a bit of time. He agreed readily. He had enough on his plate anyway that avoiding her for a little while wouldn’t be difficult.

But that conversation had already drained him of his courage, and he found himself dragging his feet to address Sephiroth. His talk with Zack had raised his hopes to what he knew to be unreasonable heights, and he foresaw the fall as a long and painful one.

It meant that the next time Genesis came to visit Sephiroth, on his own for once, Cloud seized the opportunity to return to his office. If he was lucky, he’d get a few hours of uninterrupted work before Sephiroth called him back to heel.

He took the stairs as he usually did to cross between the two floors. The rooftop door had been sealed shut and he was looking for a better security system, but nothing would be done until Sephiroth was back on his feet and workers could come and go without risk. The door to the penthouse had not even been repaired yet. Thankfully, the one at the bottom of the stairs was enough protection.

He pushed it open, mind already on the phone calls he had to make. He had barely taken one step outside when rough hands grabbed him and pulled him aside.

“Now! Go, go, go!” an unknown voice barked.

A police officer was holding the door while other men rushed in. Cloud felt his blood freeze in his veins.

He slammed his elbow back in the policeman trying to immobilize him. His hold weakened. Cloud took his arm and forcefully flipped him over his shoulder, leaving him dazed on the floor. The officer at the door tried to bar his path and he shouldered him aside with more force than he had probably expected from an office worker.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he roared, rushing up the stairs behind the policemen.

A few settled to examine the broken door while others slipped in the penthouse without so much as knocking. Another man tried to stop him.

“Please sir, this is an official—”

Cloud barely slowed down to kick his legs from under him, sending him sprawling. He charged through the door, fury burning through him.

“This is a private residence and you are trespassing!” he bellowed, hoping Genesis would hear and lock the bedroom door.

Another officer stepped in front of him and smugly waved a piece of paper in his face.

“Mr Strife, right? You said we’d need a search warrant to investigate this place, so we got one!”

“A search warrant for a burglary?” he raged. “Are you kidding me?”

“We got evidence these thieves might be connected to a higher profile case. Doubt me if you want. The warrant is all we need!”

“My employer is wounded and recovering! You can’t just burst in here at your convenience—!”

“We can, and we are!” the man claimed, delight written all over his face.

He was already striding away. His subordinates seemed to spread out randomly in the penthouse, which at least meant they didn’t know the place’s layout and had no idea where the master bedroom was. But out of sheer dumb luck, this imbecile and two of his men were taking just the right corridor.

“We’re going to sue you so hard for this,” Cloud seethed, lividly shadowing their every step. “This city’s police are going to cry tears of blood when we’re done with you all.”

“Quit waving your boss’ money at me, Strife. This is legal and there is nothing you can do about it!”

“We’ll see if you’ll keep saying that when your investigation will turn out to be the scam it is and I’ll get you fired!”

The officer was opening every closed door he was encountering in his path, barely glancing inside before moving on. He wasn’t even pretending to be investigating! Cloud’s blood was boiling in his veins, but there was nothing he could do. He’d gladly sack the bastard in the eye and let himself be arrested if it’d give Sephiroth even one chance to get out of this mess, but Sephiroth’s wings made him visible enough that he’d never make it out of the penthouse with so many policemen crawling around.

Eventually, the guy tried the bedroom door. Cloud’s heart jumped in his chest, but to his utter relief, it was locked.

“What’s in there?” the officer asked.

“My boss’ bedroom,” he answered, seeing no point in lying.

He was sure he didn’t imagine the look of triumph the man exchanged with his colleagues.

“Open it.”

Cloud stared him down.

“Right. That’s going to happen, I’m sure.”

“Open it or I’m arresting you for obstruction of justice.”

“Go ahead. It won’t open the door.”

The guy shrugged and drew his handgun. He was going to fire at the lock, Cloud realized. He made to throw himself at him, enraged, but the two other policemen grabbed him and pulled him back despite his furious struggling.

The officer was preparing to shoot when they all heard the click of the lock. Everyone froze. The officer took a nervous step back and lifted his weapon at torso level, just as the door opened.

Sephiroth appeared in the doorway. He was paler than Cloud had seen him fifteen minutes earlier and looked tired, but he was dressed in narrow jeans and a close-fitting dark sweater. His wings were nowhere in sight.

He appraised the situation in one glance and the weariness on his face faded; his eyes became cold and his lips pressed in an angry line.

“And what is the meaning of this, officer? May I know why you have invaded my home, during my convalescence no less, and deemed it fit to restrain my personal assistant?”

Genesis appeared by his shoulder and seemed scandalized to see the men.

“Why, I’ll be!” he exclaimed.

Confusion was written all over the officer’s face, and being slowly replaced by dread. Cloud had been right. If Sephiroth decided to sue to prove the search warrant had only been acquired by trickery about a non-existent investigation, the man was done. It would have taken something big to swallow the voice of Sephiroth’s lawyers… something like discovering the celebrity was a “mutant”.

Failing that…

He quickly lowered his gun from where it had still been trained on Sephiroth and stammered his explanation, not looking very happy when Cloud’s boss snatched the warrant from his reluctant hand.

“I—I was hoping I could… ask you some questions? About the night of the burglary?” he managed to say, desperate for a way out of the grave he had dug for himself.

Cloud was deriving a wicked pleasure from it all. His cold blue eyes remained trained on the officer, silently promising his fall.

“Of course,” Sephiroth agreed with his usual confidence. “Far be it from me to obstruct justice, if this case is as serious as you say.”

The policeman didn’t quite flinch, but it was a near thing.

“You will, however, unhand Strife at once… won’t you?”

The quiet threat in his voice was palpable, and Cloud had to admit it made him feel warm inside.

The officer stuttered a complaint about his uncooperativeness, which Sephiroth swept away as his commendable loyalty to him. He didn’t give them much choice but to let him go. Cloud didn’t even glance at the policemen before falling in step behind his boss, who hadn’t waited for authorization to move towards the living room. Sephiroth gracefully sat on one of the couches. Cloud chose to stand behind him and Genesis flung himself in a nearby armchair where he proceeded to lounge, as if completely undisturbed by it all.

Most of the policemen didn’t react to Sephiroth’s appearance and continued their investigation. A few others were as unsettled as the officer, clearly aware that the operation had been a fraud and they were in deep trouble. Cloud committed their faces to memory and returned to glaring at the main perpetrator.

Between the PA’s blue eyes burning a hole in his face, Sephiroth’s utter calm and confidence and Genesis’ flippant answers, the guy certainly had his work cut out for him. But he managed to hold a halfway decent interview, and had the gall to ask to see Sephiroth’s wounds. Cloud nearly jumped down his throat, but Sephiroth obeyed without complaint and removed his sweatshirt to expose his back. The wound was still an angry red, but it had gone a long way since the attack.

“No photos,” Cloud barked, seeing a nervous policeman discreetly lifting his cell phone.

He jumped and guiltily pocketed it. Sephiroth put his sweatshirt back on, tugged his long hair out of the collar and reclined on the couch. There was a satisfied smirk on his face.

“You’ll have to excuse Cloud,” he said in a voice so low he was nearly purring. “He’s very protective of my image.”

Cloud felt heat rush to his face. Sephiroth was a master of subtext and body language. There was no way he wasn’t teasing him on purpose! And Genesis was silently laughing at him, the idiot! He glared at the designer, since the weight of his displeasure would be lost on the back of Sephiroth’s head.

It hadn’t helped to put the officer at ease, at least. He awkwardly cleared his throat, and before long, he was concluding the interview.

“It’ll be, ah, a few more hours before we’re done with the search? If that’s okay.”

“Of course, take your time,” Sephiroth said. “You’re professionals, I’m sure you know what you are doing. In the meantime, we’ll relocate to the executive floors to keep from impeding your men.”

“That’s… very appreciated.”

It didn’t look appreciated at all. Actually, he seemed devastated by what Sephiroth’s flippant attitude implied: that they weren’t going to find anything, because there was nothing to find.

Cloud didn’t miss the fact that Sephiroth led Genesis and him to the elevator to travel to the next floor down. This was worrying. Like Cloud, Sephiroth usually took any opportunity to exercise in his too-full schedule. He always took the stairs for anything less than six floors.

Cloud managed to keep his silence during the short elevator ride, but he cursed in his head when the doors opened. Groups of secretaries and assistant managers were huddled near the stairs, curiously peering through the door. Evidently, someone had seen the policemen waiting for Cloud and their subsequent rush to the boss’ floor, and word had spread.

There was no preventing them from seeing Sephiroth step out. It was his first apparition after weeks of convalescence, and soon Sephiroth found himself in a crowd of well-wishers from every office on the floor and even a few from below. Some also took the opportunity to remind Genesis that they were great fans of his creations, to which the designer smiled and soaked up the attention. Even Cloud got his share of awe when a few secretaries came to him and lauded his courage in defending his boss’ rest; apparently, they had also seen him fight his way back up the stairs.

He managed to slip away first, crossed the floor to Sephiroth’s office and let himself in. From the buffet in a corner of the room, he proceeded to pour Sephiroth and Genesis’ favourite alcohols in two glasses. Then he helped himself too, because damn it, he had earned it.

He had just knocked back his drink when they finally joined him. Genesis made a beeline for the buffet while Sephiroth closed the door behind them.

“So good to me, Cloud!” Genesis gushed when Cloud handed him his glass. “Are you sure—?”

“Don’t start.”

Cloud immediately berated himself. As he had feared, ever since he had gotten on first name terms with Sephiroth, he had had a hard time clinging to the emotionless façade of the efficient personal assistant. More and more, his usually hidden annoyance and anger tended to filter in his behaviour.

It had apparently gotten to the point where Genesis, instead of giving him a weird look, merely rolled his eyes and went to sit in one of the comfortable leather chairs to observe the incoming drama. Sephiroth approached warily, as aware as his friend of the meaning behind that extra curt tone of voice.

“And what have I done to make you angry this time, Cloud?”

This question would have been laughably ironic if he had been in any mood to appreciate it. Cloud made an effort to breathe deeply and not let anger obscure his judgment. Sephiroth hadn’t done anything wrong. He had done the best of what he had.

He offered him his drink.

“It’s not you I’m angry at,” he conceded. “I just wish you hadn’t had to do that. If retracting them so early messed something up…”

To his horror, emotion briefly made his voice shake. Sephiroth smiled, touched, but thankfully didn’t comment.

“Don’t worry so much, Cloud. I checked up with Dr Gast just this morning, and although he wanted me to wait a few more days for prudence’s sake, he said I was mostly ready. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

But it still hurt. Cloud could see it in the way his eyes were slightly pinched, and he remembered how pale Sephiroth had been when he had opened his bedroom door. There was nothing to be done about it, though. He nodded and trained his eyes on the floor.

Sephiroth’s attention remained on him. Now that the danger had passed, embarrassment once more began to affect Cloud, raising the colour on his cheeks and making him avoid his boss’ stare. Genesis broke in what was quickly becoming an awkward moment.

“We need to move against Heidegger,” he said, once more serious. “He’s obviously not letting this go.”

“We didn’t expect him to,” Sephiroth reminded Genesis. He settled in the armchair behind his desk. “Alright. What have you found?”

“Who? Me?” Genesis asked with round, innocent eyes.

Sephiroth smirked.

“You didn’t seriously expect that I wouldn’t realize what you were up to, did you? I know you’ve been working on ways to get Heidegger and Hojo off our backs.”

Cloud shifted, surprised. What that why Sephiroth hadn’t deemed fit to give him any instructions regarding those two? Genesis was scowling.

“It was Angeal, right? I love that man, but I swear I don’t know how he made it as an actor. He can never hide anything from either of us.”

“Stop it with the dramatic suspense, would you?”

“Fine!”

Genesis rolled his eyes like Sephiroth was the one being unreasonable. Then he sat forward. His face had gone dark and angry.

“Look; I know all three of us want Hojo to pay, more than anything. But the bastard is well protected and he’s got all the media rooting for him. There’s no way to make him disappear without arousing suspicion. I almost wish you’d put a bullet through his head instead, Cloud,” he added, turning to him.

“What does he want with you three, anyway?” Cloud whispered.

“That monster thinks we belong to him,” Genesis spat. “Especially Sephiroth. He’s his “biggest success”…”

“It’s very likely he wants to control us somehow and hire us out as mercenaries of some kind now that the army wants nothing to do with him anymore,” Sephiroth said. “Our wings are our most noticeable features, but we’re also stronger and faster than average humans, and we were going though an extensive military training when we escaped.”

Cloud felt cold. He wanted to ask how old they were when they escaped, but he didn’t think he was ready to hear the answer. He only nodded, unsure he was very successful at hiding his unease.

He must not have been, because Sephiroth looked like he regretted saying anything. Cloud hated seeing this cool distance in his eyes. He struggled for something to say, but he didn’t know what was troubling his boss and words were not his forte. In the end, he crossed the room to stand near Sephiroth’s desk. It must have been the right thing to do; Sephiroth didn’t look at him, but Cloud saw some tension in his shoulders disappear.

Meanwhile, Genesis was twirling the glass in his hand and smirking at them both. Sephiroth raised a stern eyebrow.

“Hojo?” he prompted.

“Right. So Hojo will be a difficult target. We should have an easier time going after Heidegger. Without an ally to provide him with men and weapons, Hojo would be much less dangerous for us.”

“Heidegger is still a public figure, though,” Sephiroth argued. “We can’t afford to get rid of someone so obvious. The investigation that would follow would be risky for us.”

Cloud took a step back in disbelief. He glanced between the two men cooling arguing back and forth on the logistics of an assassination attempt. He should have been appalled. He would have been, except he had been military too, and he had shot a man in cold blood only weeks before. Heidegger had allied himself to Hojo; as far as Cloud was concerned, he had it coming.

However, these two men were not those he had gotten to know and nearly call friends during the past five years.

“What’s wrong with you?” he said suddenly, interrupting them.

They turned to him, surprised. Frowning, Cloud held their gazes.

“Did Hojo get to you, or what? Do I seriously have to remind you you’re not soldiers? You’re celebrities! Act like it! You want to get a politician down? Attack his reputation! Provoke a scandal, get him to lose the next elections. Don’t go plotting his death!”

He rolled his eyes.

“You know where to find me when you’ll actually have a lead you’ll want me to follow on. Until then, maybe you should go hit some punching bags or something.”

_‘Like I do about every time I have a day off given how often I find myself wanting to hit you,’_ he resisted the urge to add for Sephiroth’s benefit.

With that, he turned on his heel and excused himself. When the door closed behind him, Genesis whirled back to Sephiroth.

“You know if you waste the opportunity to get that wonderful, wonderful man for yourself, I’ll happily punch you, right?”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes.

“I’ll remember you said that the next time you’ll whine about hiring him.”

 

* * *

 

As was his wont, Sephiroth immediately returned to work after that day. His reappearance on the public scene was of course all the press could talk about for the following week.

From then on, Cloud didn’t find himself alone with Sephiroth very often: when his boss wasn’t being interviewed for the thousandth time about the “burglary” or off at a jet-set party being swooned at by mindless ditzes for his wound and his bravery, he was flying back and forth for Tseng’s movie or catching up on the company’s latest news in endless executive meetings.

At least Cloud no longer had to work on the floor of Sephiroth’s bedroom, and hallelujah for that. He didn’t receive any instructions regarding Heidegger, but a discussion with his best friend revealed that Zack had been the one saddled with the task. Had Sephiroth _actually_ realized he was giving Cloud way too much work otherwise for him to make much progress on it? A few months earlier, he wouldn’t have believed it, but stranger things had happened in the meantime.

Then one day, in the early hours of the morning, the phone rang. Cloud woke up, regretfully dragging himself from a very nice dream about a gentle white light and someone’s warm arms around him. His hand snapped to his phone.

“Strife,” he answered, voice stern and barely hoarse.

He blinked bleary eyes open and squinted at the alarm clock. Five twelve, damn it.

The voice that came from his phone was masculine and pleasantly deep. Given the happenings of the past few weeks and the remnants of his dream, it shot straight down and Cloud gritted his teeth against his body’s inappropriate reaction.

“Cloud. I want you in the penthouse in ten minutes.”

Now, there were unreasonable expectations, and there were physics defying expectations.

“I can’t—” Cloud started to say.

“Ten minutes, Cloud.”

And he hung up. Cloud breathed deeply and reminded himself that he was the masochistic one that was apparently unable to not work for this man. He was nearly tempted to linger to take care of the more immediate problem Sephiroth had given him, but that would have been petty.

Then he woke up properly and a jolt of panic shot through him. What if Sephiroth wasn’t just being his usual bossy self? What if he was wounded or intruders had once more found their way in the penthouse?

He was out of the door in record time, even for him. The two long elevator rides helped him calm down. Sephiroth would have warned him if anything of that magnitude had been going on. His mood soured. He had bed hair, he was pretty sure his shirt was wrinkled in the back and his heart was barely slowing down from its mad race. If Sephiroth made any remark or if this wasn’t about a _very_ serious matter, so help him…

The elevator stopped at the last level. He stepped off the cabin and took a look around. Despite the early hour, as per Sephiroth’s habit, all the blinds were up and the rising sun was bathing the entire place in warm hues. It was one of the times he loved to be in the penthouse, and he found his anger simmering down. Damn that man.

The apartment was silent save for the murmur of the TV in the living room.

“Sephiroth?” he called.

He had barely taken a few steps forward when he realized what he was hearing.

“—f you’re just now joining us, an unbelievable twist has been brought to the 'human mutants' affair we have been keeping you updated on for months now. Some confidential military documents have just been leaked from an unknown source!”

Cloud froze for a second, then slowly approached the living room. He stopped in the doorway. Sephiroth was sitting on one of the couches. His silver hair fell straight along his back, a sharp contrast to his black shirt. His eyes were on the reporter on screen.

“These documents accuse world-famous Professor Hojo of being the very creator of these beings he had been warning us about all this time!” the man was excitedly saying. “It seems he acted without even the knowledge of his superiors, who were prompt to throw him out of the military when they realized the extent of his horrific experiments on foetuses. The army has yet to react officially, but Professor Hojo was arrested early this morning at his home here in Midgar.”

The reporter disappeared to be replaced by footage of Hojo being manhandled toward a car through a throng of journalists yelling endless questions and photographs flashing away. The brave doctor wasn’t looking very good; his greasy hair was falling in his face from his crooked ponytail and his eyes looked mad from fury.

“Fools!” he yelled, sending spit everywhere. “You know nothing of the power of science! You complete, utter fools! Humanity will fade away, but my legacy will remain!”

Cloud tuned out the man’s raving. Sephiroth had just looked up and his piercing green eyes bored into him.

“'Provoke a scandal'… is what you said, I believe.”

His voice was oddly flat. Cloud nervously licked his lips.

“I’d forgotten those were going live today,” he whispered.

Even with Vincent’s help, it had been so much work he had been happy to pass the buck when he had been done with his share of the job. Yuffie must have been ecstatic by now. Instant glory, plus she got to drag in the dirt a guy she had always found extra creepy.

Sephiroth’s eyes on him were so intense he could barely move.

“So that’s what it was… that work of yours I didn’t need to know about.”

Cloud shifted, anxious.

“I figured none of you needed to hear about it if it ended up not paying.”

Sephiroth got up. Cloud found himself on the verge of taking a step back and stopped, heart racing. He wasn’t scared of Sephiroth. Why would he be? He had done nothing wrong. Right?

Sephiroth walked to him and Cloud held himself in place. The man’s eyes had gone half-lidded, his face unreadable. Just when Cloud decided he couldn’t bear the silence anymore and opened his mouth to say something, Sephiroth reached him, cupped his face in his hands and kissed him.

Cloud’s fingers became numb and his briefcase clattered to the ground. Answering the kiss wasn’t so much a decision as it was pure instinct. He tilted his face up and pushed closer, his hands clutching Sephiroth’s shirt. Sephiroth’s arms immediately slid around him, pressing him even closer. He was kissing him with so much ferocity Cloud found himself dizzy, his head empty of anything but the overwhelming need to answer in kind.

His arms closed around Sephiroth’s neck. He buried his fingers in the soft, soft hair, felt hands tug his shirt out of his pants to slid inside and press against the skin of his back, burning hot. Cloud shivered violently. He broke the kiss and dipped his head to nip at the long and pale neck left wide-open by the collar of the black shirt. Sephiroth sighed against his ear. His hands dipped lower.

The world faded away in a flurry of lips on lips and skin rubbing against skin, and Cloud was only too happy to let go.


	6. Chapter 6

Cloud was warm and comfortable. There was a gentle white light all around him, teasing the inside of his eyelids. He sighed in pure contentment and felt someone’s arms tighten around his waist. Something very soft brushed against his skin. He opened his eyes and stared in wonder.

A big black wing was curling over him, its feathers gently brushing his arm.

He turned his wrist and run a finger along its edge. It quivered. As if in answer, a warm gust of breath sighed against Cloud’s nape. He froze. Something about this was not right, and the heavy contentment in his limbs was slowly fading.

Somewhere very close, something rang.

It broke the quiet so cleanly Cloud jumped. His next instinct was to reach for his phone, but he had a moment of disorientation. The edge of the bed was farther than it should have been, and this wasn’t his cell phone’s ring.

A quiet curse sounded near his ear. The heavy, warm weight that had been resting against his back moved and a long, strong arm unlooped from around his waist to reach for the nightstand and the phone there.

Cloud found himself lying on his back, staring at a very naked Sephiroth looming over him and pressing the phone to his ear like this situation was perfectly natural.

“Yes?”

Sephiroth’s hair had slid over his shoulder in tantalizing disarray to tickle Cloud’s neck. His free arm was bracing him on the mattress, still pressed against the small of Cloud’s back. The gentle white light of a cloudy mid-morning bathed his skin in soft tones and highlighted every feather of the huge dark wings curling above him. Cloud could only stare, his mind strangely empty.

Sephiroth had turned his head to look at his wings too. His face was oddly unreadable as he listened to the person on the phone.

“… I am aware. Yes, I’ll be down shortly. Yes.”

He hung up, pensive. He shifted his wings.

“Do you know when I deployed these?”

Jolted out of his mindless shock, Cloud felt his brain catch up with the situation and his face begin to heat up.

“No,” he answered curtly.

He now had vivid, very vivid memories of what had happened a few hours ago in this bedroom—way too vivid for his sanity’s sake—but he couldn’t remember the wings, and they would have been hard to miss.

Sephiroth hummed thoughtfully and glanced at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked when Cloud wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Cloud pressed a hand against his face and slowly dragged it up to tangle in his hair. No, he wasn’t alright. He had been so carefully weighing the pros and cons of this, and now he had jumped in without looking and it had already come to the point where he was terrified to ask Sephiroth exactly what he wanted from him.

Sephiroth moved aside. With a rustle of feathers, his wings retracted to allow him to sit up. His green eyes were locked on Cloud.

“Are you regretting this?”

A cold weight was sitting on Cloud’s chest. He reached deep for his hidden reserves of strength. His hand fell to the bed and he met Sephiroth’s gaze head on.

“That’s up to you,” he whispered.

Sephiroth’s face lost the cool immobility of marble. He bent down, a soft light in his eyes, and gently kissed him. Despite everything, Cloud found himself relaxing at his contact.

“Up to me?” Sephiroth breathed against his lips. “Hmm… Well, there is this gorgeous, brilliant, painfully loyal and utterly stubborn young man in my bed, and I can’t say I want to see him leaving anytime soon.”

Cloud stared at him, wide-eyed. Sephiroth solemnly looked back.

“I can’t say I have a lot of experience in long-term relationships, Cloud, but I’d like to give it a try… If you’re willing?”

For some reason, he suddenly had trouble catching his breath.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Okay. Sure.”

Sephiroth smiled and it was a beautiful thing. Then he coaxed Cloud in a deep, long kiss that left his thoughts muddled and his body pleasantly warm. Still, there was something nagging him…

He broke off the kiss, disoriented.

“Wait… Don’t you have… this morning…”

“An executive meeting, yes,” Sephiroth answered, and he was perfectly articulate and even sounded amused, the bastard. “That call was the head secretary panicking because I was not yet in my office. Good to know I can trust you to remember such a detail even in this situation.”

Cloud glared at him, lips pressed thin in displeasure, but it didn’t keep his cheeks from reddening. He _should_ have remembered sooner…

Sephiroth bent down to press a few kisses to the hollow of his throat, making him shiver.

“I’ll have to see if I can make you forget something work-related, just once,” he said in a low, low voice.

This voice was doing indescribable things to his inner organs. Cloud shoved him away before he lost the strength to do so.

“Whatever! Just go, damn it!” he yelled.

Sephiroth laughed but obliged him, leaving the bed to wander in the adjacent bathroom. Cloud sat up and looked at the bedroom around him, lost. He was going to have to search for his clothes strewn all over _Sephiroth_ ’s apartment. It would… take some getting used to.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve been amazing so far,” Cloud said. “Nearly four months in and Sephiroth has barely uttered more than a passing remark on your work. It might be a new record.”

Reeve Tuesti, Sephiroth’s new manager, looked troubled and a little unsure.

“It’s a good thing that he doesn’t say anything about my work?...”

“Oh, yes. Believe me, it is. Sephiroth is hard to content and even harder to impress. At this point, he’s looking for any excuse at all to consider you incompetent and let you go. The day he opens his mouth to utter a compliment to you, even a mild or backhanded one, is when you can be sure he trusts you and truly considers you to be part of his staff.”

It occurred to Cloud that he might be scaring the poor guy off. However, Reeve only laughed and seemed, of all things, relieved. Cloud had hired the man because he had impressed him with how calm and reliable he had appeared during their first meeting, and Reeve certainly had yet to disappoint.

“Oh, so it’s like that, huh? I’ll do my best, then. I’m sure I don’t have it half as bad as you. You know, when I first realized how insane your workload is, I couldn’t believe you hadn’t quit long ago. But I’m starting to understand why you’re still here. He’s so hard at work himself, so driven you can’t help but want to be a part of that, right? He drags you in. It’s so challenging!”

“That’s it exactly,” Cloud whispered, impressed.

Reeve probably didn’t hear him above the music and the conversations all around them. The party was in full swing by now, rich and famous guests mingling all around Sephiroth’s penthouse. The host himself was somewhere on the balcony, last time Cloud had seen him. It was the first party Sephiroth threw since the penthouse’s security measures had been reinstated and strengthened, and plenty of celebrities had answered his invitation.

“Strife. Still Sephiroth’s lapdog, I see.”

And of course, some uninvited guests had slipped in too. Cloud mentally steeled himself and turned. Scarlet was as always stunning in a very low-cut blood red dress, her blonde hair coiled in an elaborate chignon to leave her long neck enticingly bare. Her pregnancy had left little to no trace on her striking figure. She was coldly staring him down, lips painted red twisted in a smirk.

He opted not to enter her game and remained silent. Of course, it would take more than that to unsettle her. She snagged a champagne glass from the tray of a passing waiter.

“How goes slobbering over your master’s heels?” she asked without even looking at him. “Are you still madly in love with him? What am I saying, of course you are.”

Despite all his resolution to not let her affect him, Cloud could feel an icy glare slowly forming on his face. Ever since the first time they had met, Scarlet had been certain he was head over heels for Sephiroth. Of course, he could now admit to himself that she was right, but her speculation had been born purely out of jealousy and an inability to understand that he could be working for Sephiroth for reasons outside of the man’s stunning good looks.

Reeve had clued in on the quickly cooling atmosphere. He looked torn, unable to tell if an intervention would help or worsen the situation. Cloud gave him an out:

“Reeve, I think I see Tseng over there. You wanted to talk to him, right?”

“Ah… Yes, you’re right. I guess I’ll… I’ll see you later, Cloud.”

He turned away with a last troubled look for him, looking remorseful at leaving him to the she-wolf. Scarlet gave no sign she had even noticed the manager that had been standing just three feet from her. She was sipping her champagne, looking at Cloud through half-lidded eyes.

“You know he’ll never even look at you, right?” she laughed in a husky voice. “Sephiroth likes power. We’re alike in that. Kindred spirits… There’s no way he’ll even take you to his bed, you poor little glorified secretary.”

His tongue was burning with everything he wanted to fling at her face. He was barely reigning himself in. He forcefully reminded himself that verbal sparring was not his forte and flaunting a hidden relationship to get back at her would be the worse way to handle this. It would actually be akin to letting her win. He would _not_ jeopardize what he had with Sephiroth because of her.

They had been seeing each other for more than a month now and it was the happiest Cloud had been in a very, very long time. He hadn’t let himself realize how much he had wanted this before he had dived in head-first. Now he couldn’t get enough of it. Sephiroth’s special smiles for him when they were alone in his office, the way he’d sometimes drag him up to the penthouse at the end of the workday and barely wait for the stairway’s inner door to close before kissing him, the nights spent in his arms and the mornings waking up next to him…

They had chosen not to make it public before they felt steady enough with each other. Only Angeal, Genesis and Zack knew, and Scarlet would _not_ be the first exception, no matter how much he wanted to prove her wrong and watch her beautiful face contort in rage and defeat.

“Nor will he take you back anytime soon,” he shot back instead. “Not after that stunt you pulled.”

She waved it away, contemptuous.

“Oh, please! Sephiroth’ll understand. It was just business. I played my hand, I lost. I lost to _you_ , I’m guessing, since you seem to do all his dirty work…”

She smirked coldly and he suddenly had a bad feeling about this. Scarlet hated losing. And if she felt it had been his fault…

“Well, it was well played, I’ll grant you that,” she said flippantly. “You’re nothing if not a professional. Too bad you’ll never be anything else to him. Now, I think I’d like to see Sephiroth! I should go beg for his forgiveness and all that, and it’s been so terribly long since we’ve seen each other… I heard he has yet to find anyone else worthy of his attention, the poor soul. Maybe I could… comfort him?” she suggested coyly, confirming his suspicion.

“Don’t you have a husband now?” he rebuked in an icy voice.

She rolled her eyes.

“Come on, sugar. He knows better than to think he’ll be enough for me. I’m too much to handle for one man. Now, why don’t you be a good little employee and lead me to Sephiroth, hm?”

He glared at her and didn’t budge from his spot.

Rationally, he knew he should do as she asked. Despite everything she thought she knew about him, Sephiroth would never let in his bed someone who had already backstabbed him, unless as a way to wreak vengeance from it. He was also not a cheater, despite his multiple lovers. If he was seeing someone, he would not bed anyone else before breaking it off with them.

But Cloud had this deep-set drive to not let this despicable woman anywhere near Sephiroth… as well as a tiny, immature voice claiming from inside his heart that Sephiroth was _his_ , damn it.

She didn’t look impressed.

“No? Well, I guess I’ll go look for him myself and tell him how uncooperative you’re being with guests tonight…”

Just as she was turning to do that and he was scrambling for a way to distract her, or better yet, get her to trip on her absurdly high heels and crash through a window to endure a fifty floors drop, a commotion started at the other end of the room.

“Cloud!”

Zack appeared next to him, eyes bright and Aerith at his elbow. Aerith was wearing a simple but beautiful pink dress, no make-up and only a couple of discreet pieces of jewellery. She looked out of place in the gloss and glitter of the party. As far as Cloud was concerned, she was the most stunning woman on the entire floor. He could certainly see why Zack brought her with him for moral support at these things.

“Hi, Aerith,” he said with a small smile for her.

“Hi Cloud!” she chimed in, beaming in answer.

“Yes yes,” Zack jumped in, his eyes silently laughing at them both, “you guys love each other and I’d definitely need to worry if Cloud’s attentions weren’t otherwise occupied. Now listen! Spike! The special investigation team is here.”

Cloud’s amused smirk dropped. He nodded.

“Get Sephiroth. He should be on the balcony.”

He turned and moved toward the place near the buffet where half the guests were now staring at what was happening. Scarlet had stopped not far from him, intrigued by what she certainly hoped was a good scandal. He saw her follow him from the corner of his eyes, drawn like a vulture to a corpse. Privately, he smirked.

His face reflected nothing of what he felt when he made it to the scene.

The source of the screaming was, of course, a red-faced and spluttering Heidegger, veins threatening to burst at his temples. A black man, strangely enough wearing sunglasses indoor, was restraining him and closing a set of handcuffs around his wrists. A red-headed and lanky guy stood nearby, flashing a badge to the mayor’s bodyguards, a nightstick nonchalantly propped against his shoulder. A petite blonde woman was trying to read his rights to Heidegger, but she seemed half a minute away from snapping at the spittle flying at her face from the plump man’s unending rant. All three of them were wearing the same uniform, black and crisp suits and shoes. Behind them, Cid was scratching his head in bemusement, having probably had to provide clearance for the agents to get to the top floor.

“Strife!” Heidegger hollered when he saw him. “Get me Sephiroth here at once! This is unacceptable!”

“I’m here, Mayor. No need to shout at my assistant.”

Sephiroth emerged from the crowd like Moses parting the sea, looking regal and supremely unbothered by it all. Angeal and Genesis were following him, the first politely puzzled, the second downright yawning. The guests that were discussing this strange situation in eager whispers fell silent at their arrival.

“Now, what is happening?”

“Apologies for crashing your party,” the red-haired agent drawled, unimpressed by the audience. “Mr the Mayor over here is being charged with assistance to a known army felon, breach of confidentiality, as well as colluding with several red-flagged mercenary groups. We just thought we’d get him at a time when we’d knew for sure where he was.”

Heidegger had gone so red he was nearly purple, but his screams had stopped. He had apparently realized exactly who he was asking for help, and from what. While most people around them had gasped and started another round of heavy gossiping, Sephiroth and his two friends remained utterly unsurprised. Heidegger’s eyes were bulging at them, his long beard shaking—from rage or fear, Cloud wasn’t exactly sure.

“I see,” Sephiroth said. “If that is the case, far be it from me to interfere with justice. However, I will ask you to please leave quickly as you are disturbing my guests.”

His piercing green eyes turned to Cloud.

“See them out, Cloud.”

Cloud didn’t bother nodding as Sephiroth was already turning away. A lot of things had changed between them, but their working relationship hadn’t. Angeal and Genesis followed their friend without comment, though the red-head wore a lazy smirk.

Heidegger came back to life, now screaming incoherent threats and promises of vengeance to their retreating backs.

“I’ll get you! You’ll see! I’ll get you for this, you mangy birds!” he hollered at the top of his lungs even as the black-skinned agent was pushing him toward the elevator.

The guests exchanged funny looks, mocking smirks already on their faces as they traded damning whispers. Minutes ago, some of them had been shamelessly schmoozing to the mayor. Now, he was nothing but laughingstock to them. Such was the world of celebrities.

Before he turned away to follow the agents, Heidegger and Cid out, Cloud took the time to find Scarlet in the crowd. She was looking remarkably composed, but the paleness of her face betrayed her.

Cloud made sure to catch her eyes. He stared at her long and hard. He wanted her to now for sure that this hadn’t been a coincidence; that Heidegger had been meant to fall tonight, in Sephiroth’s turf, and that she had been meant to be here to see it; so that she would know she would be next if she ever stepped one toe out of line again. She stared back, her lips pinched, then she turned and disappeared in the crowd. She wouldn’t approach Sephiroth tonight, nor probably ever again.

Feeling unaccountably vindicated, Cloud left to perform his last duty of the evening. To everyone’s doubtless relief, the elevator ride was silent, Heidegger noisily catching his breath after his last exertion. He was furiously glaring at Cloud, but refrained from another rant.

They got off at the ground floor and Cloud took the time to thank Cid and assure him he had done his duty by bringing the agents up. When the night guard went back to Barret and their watch, Cloud turned to find Reno waiting for him. His two colleagues, Rude and Elena, had stopped with Heidegger near the front doors of the building.

“Yo Blondie, just wanted to say thanks for the cooperation,” the agent said with half-lidded eyes.

“That’s fine. I’m glad we could find an agreement.”

“Yeah well… Everyone up there in the totem pole was getting pretty itchy with that creep Hojo spilling the beans every which way. Your guy actually gave us a hand in 'arbitrarily declassifying' the stuff, you know? Sure you don’t want to give us his name? I think we’d consider recruiting him. He’s good.”

Cloud wordlessly shook his head, well used to the wheedling by now. He wasn’t sloppy enough to believe him and sell Vincent. Reno sighed.

“Thick-headed, huh? Whatever, whatever. I got instructions not to push it. We’re leaving it at _status quo_ with you guys for now. Be thankful!”

“More like forced _status quo_ , no?” Cloud said quietly. “You can’t go against them without raising a big fuss, not with how popular they are. Kind of defeat the point of 'secret weapons' if you have to tell everyone and their mother what they are in order to get them back…”

Reno smirked.

“Whatever, Blondie. You keep your boss happy in bed and we’ll keep doing our job.”

Cloud couldn’t stop the faint rush of blood to his cheeks at the crude and unexpected jab. He glared at Reno who laughed hoarsely.

“Ha! Nailed it, huh? Damn, I’m good.”

Still chuckling, he turned on his heel and joined his colleagues. Rude and Elena nodded at Cloud, then pushed Heidegger out. Soon, they were gone.

Cloud sighed and rolled his head, trying to unwind the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders. Maybe he could coax Sephiroth in giving him a massage later. The thought brought a smile to his face.

The last immediate threat to them was gone. Things were finally looking up.

 

* * *

 

“Would you mind looking up when I’m talking to you, Cloud?”

“Uh?”

Cloud blinked and tore himself from the screen of his laptop. Sephiroth was standing over him with a small annoyed frown.

“What is it?” Cloud asked, confused. “You know I listen to you even when I’m not looking at you.”

Sephiroth had been commenting about the beauty of the scenery, something he hadn’t seen fit to answer to. Had it actually offended him? Cloud glanced around.

Zack had landed the helicopter at the top of a high cliff from which they had a splendid view of the surrounding lands: lush forests, sprawling plains and rivers sparkling in the starlight all the way to the horizon. Angeal, Genesis and Zack were standing near the drop-off, silhouetted against that background. Cloud had opted to sit beside the helicopter with his computer.

Sephiroth sighed.

“That’s not the point, Cloud. We left the office hours ago and it’s the middle of the night. Won’t you stop working for the day?”

“I’m going to be up anyway, why shouldn’t I be working?”

Sephiroth lifted a hand to his brow, irritated.

“Cloud, you and I are going to need to define a clear-cut line between work and leisure at some point. I swear half the time you come to the penthouse, you find something to work on…”

Cloud coughed, astonished.

“ _You_ think I work too much? That’s got to be the most hypocritical thing I ever heard you say, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth didn’t look impressed.

“I never work when you are visiting me, Cloud.”

With a flash of guilt, Cloud realized he was right. Sephiroth too had often been working at home, but that habit of his had drastically diminished since they had started their relationship. But if Cloud were to even try to respect office hours…

He frowned.

“Sephiroth, I’m barely staying afloat of my current workload,” he said with stark honesty. “I’m sorry if you feel I’m not trying hard enough at this, but…”

He stopped and stared at his laptop, distressed. He truly loved Sephiroth, so much that it frightened him sometimes, but he wouldn’t, he couldn’t let what they had interfere with his work. It would be a discredit to both his professional pride and Sephiroth himself.

The rustle of gravel moving made him look up as Sephiroth sat next to him, so close their thighs touched. With a sinking feeling, Cloud saw he was frowning.

“This isn’t going to work,” he announced, and Cloud tried not to feel like an ice blade had just shot through his heart.

He had known there had been a high probability something like this might happen. He had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to work at his usual standard when he kept having the urge to kiss his boss every single time he saw him, but… the opposite problem shouldn’t have come as a complete surprise either. Sephiroth and him were practically married to their works, of course trying to begin a serious relationship together would hit a snag somewhere.

“I need a second PA,” Sephiroth declared.

“… Uh?” Cloud could only utter.

Sephiroth had lifted a hand to his chin and seemed to be deep in thought about logistics and practical repercussions.

“If it’s taking so much of your time, there is clearly enough work for two people. The problem would be to find someone we could both learn to work with in a reasonable time frame.”

He glanced at Cloud and found him wordlessly gaping. He frowned.

“Focus, Cloud. We need to find you a colleague. If you can start compiling a list of possible candidates…”

“There is Reeve,” Cloud blurted out in a desperate effort not to look this gift horse in the mouth. “He has hinted a few times that he was tired of his other clients and would like to branch out some day, if he ever got the occasion.”

“Tuesti?” Sephiroth repeated, surprised. “Hum…”

After a few instants of careful consideration, he said:

“Yes, it could work. If he agrees to shoulder some of your duties on top of his usual ones… You’d have to find the time to train him, of course.”

“I doubt it’d be a problem. He seems like a quick-learner.”

“Then it’s decided. Set a meeting with him ASAP so we can discuss it.”

Cloud mindlessly nodded, still recovering from the shock. Sephiroth was willing to change a working arrangement that had suited him perfectly for years, all for the chance to spend more leisure time with Cloud. Warmth was pooling in his belly, spreading through his body in tiny shivers.

It did occur to him that Sephiroth would never have made such a proposition for Cloud’s sake alone, but he had known that for a long time already. Five years ago, he might have thought this man perfect, but he had long since learned the truth: Sephiroth was egocentric, uncompromising, impatient and downright dangerous when crossed. Yet here he was, purposefully going out of his way to make what they had work.

Cloud carefully set his laptop aside, turned and drew a surprised Sephiroth in a deep kiss. God, he loved this man.

Although he didn’t seem to realize what he had done exactly to warrant such an enthusiastic reaction, Sephiroth leaned down to accommodate the kiss and wrapped his arms around him. Cloud would have happily stayed there a good long while if a boisterous voice hadn’t seen fit to interrupt them.

“Come on, you lovebirds!” Zack yelled at them. “There’ll be time enough for that later. Let’s go while we have the night all to ourselves!”

Cloud drew back to glare at him, and found his grinning friend to be alone on the cliff. He instinctively looked up and his lips parted in fascination. It seemed Genesis and Angeal had tired of waiting for Sephiroth. High above their heads, they were engaged in what appeared to be an animated game of tag. Their laughs could be heard from the ground as their wings circled against the background of the night sky, alternatively blocking stars.

Sephiroth stood up beside him and his wings deployed from slits through the back of his long-sleeved shirt. A small smile formed on Cloud’s face as he watched the hidden eagerness in his eyes.

Apparently, Zack used to bring Genesis, Angeal and Sephiroth to remote locations like this one about once a month so they could stretch their wings and taste the skies, but they had put these trips on hold when the whole Hojo debacle had started. They had waited until it had become certain that Heidegger was out of the picture to come here. Sephiroth hadn’t flown since his wing had healed, and despite how well he had hidden it, Cloud knew how much he had waited for this. Cloud too was impatient to finally see him fly.

But as he was waiting for Sephiroth to approach the cliff edge, his lover surprised him by bending down, catching his hands and pulling him to his feet.

“What are you doing?” Cloud asked, his eyebrows rising as he was dragged to the drop-off.

“I didn’t bring you here so you could stay glued to your screen, Cloud.”

“But…”

He stopped when he saw the strange harness a grinning Zack was holding.

“You didn’t think Angeal’d be cruel enough to leave me stuck on the ground every time we did this, huh, Spike? Hold still.”

Within moments, Cloud found one part of the harness settled around his torso and its twin around Sephiroth’s. A sturdy rope was running between the two.

“Don’t worry,” Zack said as he adjusted some last buckles, “it’s only for safety’s sake. Sephiroth’ll be holding you tight anyway.”

He winked, but Cloud was preoccupied with a dawning realisation.

“Oh no,” he said, breathless. “We can’t…”

“What’s the problem, Cloud?” Sephiroth asked, completely unruffled. “You said it yourself: you love heights as much as I do.”

“But your wing just healed! I can’t…”

A lesser man might have rolled his eyes. Instead, in a tone of endless patience, Sephiroth said:

“My wing is perfectly fine, Cloud.”

Then he closed his arms around him and launched them off the cliff.

Cloud gave an undignified shriek as his stomach took flight. He instinctively wrapped his arms around Sephiroth’s neck. Their trajectory soon incurved from the straight fall it had been until trees were rushing under them.

Cloud opened his eyes wide despite the sting of the cold wind. Air was roaring against his ears, ruffling his hair and raising goose bumps on his arms. The open night sky was all around them, huge and free. Big black wings lazily beat, carrying them under the stars.

If he hadn’t been already utterly in love with flying, Cloud would have been lost the moment he turned his head and saw the fierce look of joy and freedom in Sephiroth’s eyes.

 

* * *

 

“… and now for some news of the showbiz world! Famous actor Sephiroth announced yesterday to the surprise of all his fans that he was currently in a relationship with his personal assistant, one Cloud Strife. Sephiroth, who has never made a mystery of being bisexual, is also known for his long string of past lovers. However, he also emphatically declared that Cloud Strife and him had been seeing each other for close to two months before going public, a pretty atypical behaviour for this man who has never made it a habit to shy from the media. This has led to countless speculations about how serious Sephiroth might be about his new boyfriend.”

Cloud was aware he was wearing a silly little smile since he had woken up, but he couldn’t seem to get rid of it. His cheeks were starting to cramp, damn it.

He stretched his sore body and leaned his forearms on the railing of the balcony, staring at the cars in the streets below. It was still early enough on a Saturday morning that there wasn’t much traffic.

Saturdays didn’t use to be off days for Cloud. Sundays were: they were the days he took care of his apartment, did the laundry, caught on some sleep, checked on his friends and went to the gym. But Sephiroth was prone to having _whims_ on Saturdays, or movie shootings, song recordings or whatever else, so Cloud usually just saved himself the grief and worked. But for once in his life, he had nothing of great importance to work on thanks to his new colleague, and Sephiroth was sleeping in.

The absurdity of this thought was enough to make him smile again. Sephiroth and sleeping in did _not_ mix… except, apparently, after nights which he spent zealously trying to convince his lover that sleep was overrated. Cloud self-consciously blushed and tugged his open shirt closer to his chest littered with bite marks. How could he ever regret agreeing to the public announcement after a night like that?

Behind him, through the open doors of the balcony, the TV kept droning on.

“… and fans wonder: could this mean the end of Sephiroth’s on and off celibacy? Well, girls, don’t despair: at least his new boyfriend is hot!”

Cloud felt himself blush even more. What did that have to do with anything? He was glad he had been able to talk to Tifa beforehand about this. The thought of her learning of his relationship with Sephiroth from this overly peppy anchor was enough to make him cringe.

At least Tifa had seemed to take it well, though she had dryly informed him she thought he was a complete masochist. To his relief, though, there were now back on friendly terms. That was enough for him.

He made to go back inside and turn the TV off, but the sound cut off before he even reached the doors. That damn smile was back on his lips as soon as he spotted Sephiroth putting the remote control down. Freshly out of bed, Sephiroth was only wearing soft pants, and the reason why was also the cause of his faint scowl: his wings were out, curling over his shoulders where strands of his hair had scattered over the feathers.

“This is ridiculous,” he said as soon as he saw Cloud. “Isn’t it annoying you? You should wake me up if they start taking too much space in bed.”

“Hi to you too,” Cloud whispered.

Sephiroth’s frustration lessened. He joined Cloud on the balcony and wound his arms around him, his wings automatically disappearing in his back as he stepped out in the open.

Ever since the beginning of their relationship, the wings made an unplanned appearance once every few nights Cloud spent in Sephiroth’s bed. Cloud could tell it rattled Sephiroth. He was used to hiding his extra appendages from his lovers, and this sudden lack of control unnerved him.

Sephiroth gifted him with a chaste kiss as his morning greeting.

“It doesn’t annoy me,” Cloud said when they parted. “I usually end up wrapped in them. It’s soft and warm, I don’t mind.”

Sephiroth hummed, unconvinced.

“Come on, I made breakfast,” Cloud offered.

He slipped out of his embrace and made his way to the kitchen. Sephiroth followed him, though Cloud could tell he was distracted. His eyes were absently wandering around the penthouse.

While Cloud was at the counter pouring tea in two mugs, arms wrapped once more around him, this time from behind.

“You know, Cloud, I am starting to feel that this place is much too big…”

Cloud stopped and stared at him over his shoulder.

“You seriously are just noticing that?” he said with no small amount of incredulity. “Of course it’s too big, Sephiroth! You have four guest rooms, a private training room and a frigging helicopter landing pad on the roof! All that’s missing is a swimming pool. Or not even; the tub in the master bathroom could serve that purpose, I’m sure.”

Sephiroth let him rant with an air of tired patience.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

He let go of Cloud to relieve him of a mug and a loaded plate and turned to set them on the table.

“It’s much too big… for one person.”

Cloud froze just as he was going to take a sip of his tea. Was Sephiroth really asking what he thought he was…?

Sephiroth turned back to him. He looked neutral.

“Besides, it takes you approximately seven minutes to come here from your apartment, which is very annoying.”

That was such a typical comment that Cloud couldn’t help it: he laughed.

“Are you seriously… seriously suggesting that I…?”

“Move in, Cloud.”

The laughter died on his lips with his breath. Cloud felt like he had just been sucker punched. Sephiroth had never extended such an offer to any of his previous lovers, even those that had lasted the longest. And yet, after just two months together, he…

Sephiroth’s burning green eyes were focused on him, intent and earnest. Cloud tried to swallow through his dry throat.

“We just announced we were together in the first place,” he whispered, his voice nearly lost. “Don’t you think that’d send the media in a frenzy?”

“I’m not asking my PR manager, Cloud. I’m asking the man who makes me feel safe enough I forget every single one of my self-preservation instincts when he’s sleeping next to me.”

It had been said so starkly, so unexpectedly that Cloud felt a brief vertigo. Tea from his forgotten mug spilled on his hand and he realized he was shaking. He carefully set it down. Sephiroth was still waiting for his answer, his stunning eyes boring into him like he would be able to see the words before they formed on his tongue.

Well, Cloud thought. His apartment was really too small anyway. And the penthouse had a bigger balcony.

He wrapped his arms around Sephiroth’s neck, tangled his hands in his hair and set to erase the triumphant smile already lifting the corner of these pale lips.


End file.
